


Ceremony of Innocence

by velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Choking, Emetophobia, Fluff, M/M, Shameless Smut, Stucky Big Bang 2017, no cryo for Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 22,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: After saving Steve Rogers from the river in the wake of the failed Project Insight, Bucky is on a mission to find himself. As the memories come back thick and fast, he has to figure out exactly who he is now. But when someone blows up the building where the Sokovian Accords are to be signed and the Winter Soldier is blamed, he finds his new life at risk and realises that, for him, the fight may never stop.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The most amazing vid for this fic, by the wonderful dracusfyre, can be found [here](https://dracusfyre.tumblr.com/post/164326928774/heres-my-stucky-big-bang-submission-a-fanvid-for). Please make sure you go watch it as soon as you're finished the fic as it's a little spoilery. :D
> 
> Thanks be to the wonderful bb_baby and ellie-nors for the betaing. 
> 
> To everyone who read it over at various stages, to all my cheerleaders, my warmest gratitude. 
> 
> And to you, the reader: I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Title from Yeats, specifically "The Second Coming", because I'm a nerd.

Breath wheezing, heart pounding…

_My name is Bucky, my name is Bucky, my name is Bucky_

...pushed back into the chair, tied down, held in place as the mouth guard is forced in…

_Oh god, dear god, why won't someone save me, please god someone save me_

...the flick of a switch and the anticipation of the pain to come…

_Steve!_

...agony, and then silence. All is darkness.


	2. Chapter 1

The man who was once James Buchanan Barnes steps into the museum exhibit, head down and shoulders hunched as he walks, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. He reads the information displayed there avidly, eyes scanning the words as he drinks them in. The history of Captain America, photographs of Steve Rogers before the serum--

_A sudden memory of a young boy with scraped knees and a bruised mouth, refusing to back down from a fight with kids twice his size_

\--as well as after. Finally, he reaches something so familiar it stops him short, and stares at the large display about Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Steve Rogers’s best friend. 

He's not sure how he feels, so many emotions overtaking him as he looks at the picture. He feels sadness, anger, hatred, and confusion all flit across his features, shadowed by his baseball cap pulled down low over his forehead. 

Suddenly overwhelmed and feeling slightly nauseated, he turns on his heel and walks away. He's not sure exactly what he'd expected to find, but whatever it is, it’s not here. 

He travels up to Brooklyn and wanders around streets that are heartbreakingly familiar, yet not at the same time. There are so many changes: buildings that have been newly built, or knocked down, or renovated so they're almost unrecognizable; chains, instead of the old mom-and-pop stores that used to line the streets; heavy traffic, where before there had been very little. He stops walking and realises that his feet have brought him to somewhere he knows very well, if he could only remember…

Steve’s apartment block, his brain supplies, and he's suddenly flooded with memories--

_A million and one sleepovers, Mrs Rogers making their favourite oatmeal raisin cookies which they'd eat sitting on the sofa cushions they'd pulled out onto the floor, the way Steve's eyes had looked at her funeral_

\--and he reels backwards, almost stepping on an elderly woman’s toes. 

“Hey, watch where you're going!” she scolds, but her expression softens when she gets a look at his face. “You okay, mister? You don't look so great.”

He nods. “I'm okay. Thank you,” he says, and the words feel rusty with underuse. How long has it been since anyone asked if he was okay? So long that he genuinely can't remember. He gives the woman a half smile before leaving her standing there, watching him go with a look of concern on her hard, unbeautiful face. 

He decides to make use of a hidden HYDRA drop point in midtown New York, one of the many places HYDRA hid ready cash and anything else he might need if a mission went south and they were unable to extract him. He'd already used one, a day or so after… after everything had happened; he knew he couldn't just wander around in his Winter Soldier uniform and so had gone out to buy civilian clothes, stuttering his way through the transaction as it slowly came back to him how to interact with others. 

As before, he finds the drop point easily, the locations drilled into him by rote, and empties it. There's cash--a lot of cash; about fifty thousand dollars in hundreds--along with a burner phone and a Russian passport with his picture in it. He stares at the photograph for a moment before putting the lot into his backpack and heading back out onto the street. 

He hops on a train down to Washington DC that evening and cleans out the drop point there too, unsure of how long he's going to have to stay under the radar. There’s about the same amount of money but the passport here is Romanian, and he thinks for a moment before making his decision. But years of HYDRA training tell him not to go directly to his final destination. Instead, he finds a travel agent and books onto the QM2 to Southampton, leaving in two days. He uses the name on the Romanian passport, Luca Petrescu, but the name feels unfamiliar on his tongue. 

Memories start coming back thick and fast now--

_The Howling Commandos, the fight against HYDRA with Steve always by his side and the noise of battle in his ears, the taste of the vegetable soup his ma always used to make when he had a cold_

\--and he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut as if he can protect himself from them. 

He stays in a hotel in DC that night, his room overlooking the National Monument, though he doesn't really care about the view. The soft bed is a delight he has not experienced in the last god knows how many years, and he luxuriates in the comfort of it before ordering room service. 

The girl who brings up his food flirts with him, but he simply smiles perfunctorily and tips her well, closing the door firmly behind her. The food is good, flavors he's not tasted for years bursting over his tongue. He moans appreciatively and digs in properly; before he knows it, his plate is clean and he's full for the first time in a long time. 

HYDRA fed him, they did--enough to keep him alive and obedient--but he was rarely full; rarely satisfied. 

He takes a shower, carefully drying off his metal arm afterwards so it won't rust, and almost collapses with exhaustion into the bed. He's asleep in moments. 

_Reaching for Steve's hand, but he can't quite grasp it. The railing starts to break and he loses his grip, screaming all the way down into darkness and pain_

He bolts upright, taking a few seconds to get his bearings. As his breathing calms, he looks around the room, shadows eerie in the muted moonlight. It's the second nightmare he's had in as many nights. He'd hoped the first one was just a one-off, but it seems like he might be stuck with them. 

He lies back down, head cushioned on the soft pillow, and closes his eyes, praying for oblivion.


	3. Chapter 2

The next day he travels back up to New York. After exchanging a thousand dollars out of his stash for British pounds, he checks into a hotel near the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal. He looks out of his hotel room window over the city that once was his and sighs heavily, sadness and longing mixing with relief that he's finally escaping. 

Check in for the voyage doesn't start until one p.m. the following day, but he already feels like he's made a start to his journey. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

He's finally free. 

***

The voyage is mostly fine, but around the fourth day the boat starts to roll over a swell and he finds himself battling seasickness. He doesn't think he's ever been seasick before--

_”You okay, Barnes?”_

_“Yeah, fine, just pretty sure this motion doesn't agree with my stomach, you know?”_

_“Keep your eyes open; I read somewhere that it helps.”_

\--and as the memory hits him with force he leans over the toilet and violently throws up, almost certain it has nothing to do with the movement of the ship. 

He takes a walk on deck to clear his head, standing by the railing and looking out over the bright ocean which is lit to a brilliant azure hue by the sun’s rays. A small child rushes past, screaming in delight, and he flinches at the loud, piercing sound of it. The child’s parents run past moments later, presumably trying to catch the wayward youngster before she falls overboard. He watches them covertly for a few moments, longing for a normal life--the kind of life he's always wanted, the kind of life that would mean everything to him--deep in his chest, before squashing it down and striding back inside to his cabin. 

***

He disembarks from the ship in Southampton after the seven day voyage into a light drizzle, the sky overcast with low, gray clouds. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he traipses down the gangway and wanders around the sodden streets until he finds a hotel. The large, old fashioned clock on the wall in the light, open lobby tells him it's six p.m., and he smiles at the woman behind the desk. 

He must be getting better at smiling again, because she smiles back, bright and wide, her teeth white and even. 

“Do you have a reservation, sir?” she asks him, and her accent reminds him of--

_”Sergeant Barnes,” Agent Carter greets him, smiling, as she stands with Steve, close enough that he feels a stirring of jealousy in his chest_

\--someone, and he blinks, mentally shaking himself. 

“No, sorry, I've just come off the Queen Mary Two,” he says sheepishly. 

The woman shakes her head. “That's fine. We have plenty of rooms--this isn't our busiest time of year. One double room?”

“Yes, please.”

“And how many nights will you be staying with us, sir?”

He thinks for a moment. “Just one. I'm travelling on tomorrow.”

She takes his details and he signs the piece of paper she grabs from the printer. “Okay.” She hands him a key. “You're in room one-oh-five. You can take the stairs there or there's a lift through on your left.”

“Thank you,” he responds gratefully, taking the key and heading up the staircase. 

He finds the room easily and sits on the bed, taking a deep, calming breath. No one has stopped him yet; maybe he's lucky and they're not looking for him. 

After he's finished eating--room service again; he doesn't feel like venturing out in the rain in an unfamiliar city--he switches on the television which hangs on the wall, big enough to cover a large amount of the ugly floral wallpaper. He flicks through until he finds the news. They're talking about the aftermath of the SHIELD/HYDRA gunships crashing and he watches, unable to look away, as they detail the damage. 

The more he watches, the more nauseated he feels that he was partly responsible for the destruction--

_Determined, confused, conflicted. ”You're my mission!”_

_“Then finish it--cause I'm with you till the end of the line.”_

_And suddenly he_ remembers _\--a jumble of images flashing through his consciousness as he stares in horror at the beaten body of his Steve below him_

\--and he runs for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time before he's heaving into the bowl. His stomach emptied, he sits back on the floor of the bathroom and wipes his mouth on a piece of tissue, taking deep, gulping breaths. 

Sleep brings more nightmares; this time he sees the faces of all the people he's killed over the years. He wakes up with hot tears streaming down his cheeks, soaking the pillow below.


	4. Chapter 3

He checks out the next morning after breakfast, lying with a smile when the man at reception asks him if he slept well. He wonders if he'll ever be free of the nightmares. 

He wonders if he deserves to be. 

He takes the train up to London Waterloo station, spending the journey watching the beautiful English countryside fly by out the window. The chatter around him from the other passengers is too loud to be soothing and he wishes for silence. The man opposite him has wires going up to his ears from a small rectangular device, and he looks at the man covertly, wondering what the device is for. He looks around and sees a few other people with similar devices, and immediately feels out of sync with the world. It's clearly something common that everybody else knows about. 

Everybody but him. 

He feels like a freak, which he supposed he is; normal people don't have super strength or a metal arm. He rubs the glove over his left hand self-consciously. He wonders what would happen if he took his gloves off, if the people around him saw what he really is.

_The feel of a rifle in his hands, the endless weapons training, obedience drilled into him until it became second nature to follow even the most brutal orders without question_

Instead, he crosses his arms and stares out the window again, trying not to think too much. 

Waterloo station is large and loud, hundreds of people milling about. He thinks for a moment, then strides over to an information desk. 

“How can I help?” asks the bored looking woman behind the desk.

“What's the easiest way to get to Paris from London?” he enquires. 

The woman shrugs. “Quickest is probably flying, but easiest I’d say the Eurostar.”

“Eurostar?”

“It's a train,” the woman says, her incredulous expression implying that this is something he should already know. “You'll need to get the tube up to Kings Cross and walk to St Pancras. The Eurostar leaves from there.”

“The… the tube?” he repeats, uncertainly. 

“The underground,” she says slowly, as if talking to a child. “Take the Jubilee line to London Bridge and then change to the Northern line for Kings Cross.”

“Thank you,” he responds, and walks away, leaving her staring after him with a look that implies his ignorance offended her sensibilities, and making him feel even more out of place. 

He goes to the ticket office and explains that he needs to get to Kings Cross, and the man behind the glass smiles at him and asks him if he wants a day travel card in case he wants to see more of the city. He hesitates for a moment, then nods. 

The man gives him a small printed pink card and he hands over a ten pound note, receiving unfamiliar coins as change. He pockets the coins and nods at the man, thanking him before heading for the tube entrance. 

He balks at the sheer number of people crushing themselves into the train but swallows his fear and jumps on as the doors begin to close. No one looks at him. Everyone is buried in a newspaper, or on their phones, or playing with those devices he saw on the train to London. Nobody cares who he is (whoever he is)--

_Bucky I am Bucky my name is Bucky_

\--and it's comforting, in a strange way. He's used to feeling like a ghost. 

He manages to navigate the tube system well enough that he arrives as planned at Kings Cross, following the signs and the crowd of people up to the overground station. Once there he looks around helplessly, and spots another information booth down the other end. There's a woman there already, speaking with a heavy French accent to the young, dark haired woman behind the desk who is answering her patiently. 

He looks around as he waits, wondering about the queue of people in front of something. The sign above says “Platform 9 ¾” and he looks at it curiously. Whatever it is, it's popular if the long line is anything to judge by. 

At length, the woman in front leaves with a final “Merci!”, and he steps up. 

“How can I help?” the young woman asks brightly. 

“I wanted to travel to Paris eventually, but I thought I'd spend some time in London first,” he tells her, nervous in case she looks at him like the other woman at Waterloo. “The only thing is, I've never been to London--”

_”You know your mission? You will be taken to the Royal Lancaster Hotel near Hyde Park. The target, Qadhi Abdullah al-Hajjri, will be there. No witnesses. You have your weapon. You will be extracted as soon as it's done”_

“--and I was looking for some advice on where to stay and what to see?”

The woman smiles. “Of course, sir! We have some leaflets on tourist attractions here.” She hands him a few brightly colored pieces of paper. “What's your budget for a hotel?”

“Something nice? But not too expensive.”

“I know that there's a lovely hotel in Paddington, right near the tube station--my parents stay there when they come to London. You should be able to get a reasonably priced room there, even if it is four star, since it's the off season.”

“That sounds great,” he says, smiling. 

She nods. “I'll write down the details for you.” She does so, handing him the piece of paper when she's done. 

“Is Paddington easy to get to from here?”

“It is! Take the Circle or Hammersmith and City line and that will take you to Paddington.”

“Thank you so much for all your help,” he says gratefully. 

“You're welcome, sir. Enjoy your stay in London!”

He wanders off, unable to believe how much nicer that young woman had been compared to the woman at Waterloo. He feels less out of place now, and takes a deep breath. He can do this.


	5. Chapter 4

He finds the hotel with ease once he's out of Paddington station, and books himself in for two weeks. 

Two weeks, he thinks. Two weeks to get lost in an unfamiliar city. As long as no one recognizes him, if they're looking for him now, then that should be long enough.

He laughs hollowly to himself as he sits on the nicely made-up bed in his immaculate room. His Winter Soldier training is certainly coming in useful for escaping his past. He has no doubt that this wasn't what his handlers had in mind when they trained him, and he feels almost like he's winning against them somehow. 

***

On his second day in the city he passes a shop selling notebooks and pens. On a whim, he buys a pack of five plain notebooks, a pack of sticky placeholders, and a few packs of different colored pens, before leaving the store clutching the bag like it's a lifeline. 

When he arrives back at his hotel room he shrugs off his jacket and sits on the bed, tearing open one of the packs of pens. He thinks for a moment, then starts to write, jotting down the flashes of memories he's had since he escaped. 

He writes about Brooklyn, and Steve, and the war, pen moving furiously over the paper. Sometimes he pauses and takes up a different color pen. The important memories, the ones he wants to examine later, he bookmarks with a placeholder. 

When he's finished, he scans through what he's written, before nodding, satisfied. He doesn't know if it will help, but it's a start. 

***

He sees a lot during his two weeks in London. He goes to Buckingham Palace to see the changing of the guard, and spends a full day in the British Museum, marveling at the artifacts from all over the world. He finds himself completely fascinated by the Lewis Chessmen, with their peculiar designs--

_”Knight to King two. Checkmate!”_

_“What?” Steve stares at him incredulously, then at the board. “It can't be! How did you do that?”_

_“Pure skill, Steve. Skill and misdirection.”_

_“Bet you cheated.”_

_And all he wants to do is kiss that pout right off of Steve's face_

\--but he doesn't linger after that. On the recommendation of the receptionist at the hotel he travels up to Camden to the markets and tries not to stare at the more colorful people as they pass. He's never seen blue or purple hair before, and has certainly never seen that many piercings on someone's face, at least not that he remembers. He almost feels like his metal arm wouldn't be out of place in Camden. Just another peculiarity in an area full of peculiarities. 

Some days he spends lazing on Primrose Hill or Regents Park (but never travelling down to Hyde Park, too afraid--

_Three shots in quick succession and he knows they're all dead. The screams from the crowd ring in his ears as he escapes quickly from his hiding place before the police can get there_

\--of the memories). One day he goes to the zoo in Regents Park and spends the afternoon wandering around, staring at all the animals. The tigers are his favorite and he goes back to them three times to watch them prowl around or sleep in the sunshine. 

He goes to Oxford Street once, but the crush of people is too much and he doesn't stay long. That's the only thing he doesn't like about London--the sheer volume of people makes him nervous, although it's easier to disappear in a crowd. 

***

The two weeks fly by, and before he knows it he's boarding the Eurostar to Paris. He intends to stay there a week before moving on. He feels like he's been to Paris before--

_Walking quickly up the staircase, a man from the organisation that had hired him beside him, both covered head to toe in black. They insisted that he wear gloves to cover his metal hand but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters._

_They reach the elevator as it dings open to reveal an older man in glasses--their target, Curiel. He looks at them in fear as they both raise their weapons, shooting him through the heart_

\--but he shakes off the horrors and stares at his gloved hands. It's starting to get warmer but he doesn't care take them off in public, despite the strange looks people give him. His metal hand is too recognisable. 

Paris is beautiful. After checking into a hotel across from the Gare Du Nord he goes for a walk in the bright sunshine. 

His time spent there is pleasant. He speaks French fluently--he's not sure if there are many European languages he didn't have drilled into him by his handlers--which makes things a lot easier. He goes to many small art galleries, as well as the Louvre, marvelling at the beautiful paintings. He has a fascination with art--

_”You can't want to draw me again, Steve!”_

_“But you're my favourite subject, Buck.”_

_Exchange of kisses and smiles, before reclining back on the sofa as Steve takes out his sketchpad and pencils_

\--and he enjoys the Old Masters as much as the more modern pieces in the Musée d’Orsay.


	6. Chapter 5

From Paris, he takes the train to Zurich, but stays there only a few days. It's a beautiful city, but he's starting to worry that he's lingering too long. 

His hotel looks out over the Limmat, and he likes to watch the water flowing past. It soothes him as the memories batter against his consciousness--

_Mr Thompson writing the lessons on the chalkboard when he was eight years old; visiting Steve at home with a bunch of grapes when his asthma got so bad he nearly died; Steve's expression when he saw him in uniform after he'd been assigned to the 107th_

\--and he pushes them away, instead looking down at the sunset reflected in the water. 

***

In Milan he goes to the Duomo on his second day in the city, walking around the awe-inspiring interior, stopping out of habit to cross himself in front of the altar--

_The first time he ever went to mass with Steve_

_“You have to genuflect, Buck!”_

_Confusion. “What's that?”_

_“You have to kneel down and cross yourself in front of the altar!”_

_“Oh. Okay.”_

_A hundred times after that when he slept over until Sunday, with Steve and his ma if Steve was well enough to go_

\--as he passes it on his way through. He takes the lift up to the roof, crowded in with tourists of all nationalities, and the view from the top takes his breath away. 

In Venice he visits the Palazzo Ducale, and walks around the apartments, but when he finds himself in the Prigioni Nuove--

_Kept in a tiny room, screaming for Steve, for someone to help him, until he realised that no one was coming and he gave up; stopped screaming, stopped eating the slops they pushed through the hole in his door until they dragged him out and began the process of making him into what he eventually became_

\--the feeling of nausea overtakes him and he has to escape outside into the fresh air of the city. 

His last day in Zagreb, he takes a tour of the botanic gardens, enjoying the peace and tranquility of it all. He wanders slowly around the paths, stopping occasionally to smell the beautiful, many-colored flowers out in bloom. He doesn't recognize most of the species, but there are one or two that--

_Bringing his ma flowers on her birthday, the look of pleasure on her face as she scolds him, “James Buchanan Barnes, don't tell me you spent your paper route money on your old ma,” but he knew she was happy he'd done it; wondering what they thought when they heard the news of his death_

\--are familiar. He reads through the leaflet he'd picked up and sees that while most of the thousands of species are local to Croatia there are a few foreign plants too. 

The bus to Budapest takes around five hours and he steps out into the unfamiliar city to the sun in his eyes. 

He knows this will be the last stop before his final destination and heaves a sigh of relief that he hasn't been caught yet. He's been careful, constantly on the alert, but no one has noticed him. He blends into the background of the inhabitants of each city in his civilian clothes. 

At every stop, he's also made sure to visit another HYDRA drop point, and now has something like four hundred thousand dollars in various currencies. He figures that should be enough to last him for a few years, if he's careful. 

He spends only a day in Budapest; the only sight he goes to see is the Royal Palace. He stands in the Lion Courtyard, looking in awe at the statues of the lions which guard it, wondering just how long it took to craft each one. 

On the way back to the bus stop he looks up and his breath catches in his throat as he sees a small, skinny man with blonde hair--

_Steve he looks like Steve it can't be Steve_

\--but the man passes him without a look, laughing and joking with his friends in Hungarian. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly against the torrent of emotions crashing through him, then keeps walking. He'll deal with it when he has to. 

The Eurolines bus from Budapest to Bucharest takes a full seventeen hours, and he settles into his seat with his Romanian passport in an easy-to-reach spot in case of checks. He sleeps fitfully as the bus travels noiselessly along the roads, occasionally waking and eating one of the cereal bars he had bought in preparation of the long journey. His water he drinks sparingly, to avoid having to use the bathroom too much. 

At length, he feels the bus pull up and the driver says loudly, “Bucharest! All change.” He steps off the bus into the city which is to be his home for now and smiles softly. Finally, perhaps, he can rest.


	7. Chapter 6

The first thing he does is find the last HYDRA drop point of his journey. It's in a quiet little side street, and he knows exactly which bricks to remove to reveal the hidden cavity behind. He takes out the money and passport, and finds a gun and some small explosive devices right at the back. He thinks for a moment, then takes the explosives but leaves the gun there. He doesn't intend to use one of those again if he can help it. 

As he wanders out towards the main streets, he notices a “To Rent” board outside an apartment block. There's a phone number underneath, and he takes it as a sign. 

He calls the number, and the woman on the other end is almost abrupt, but also very helpful. She mentions that the apartment is available now, unfurnished, so he can move in whenever he likes. She tells him to come to her ground floor apartment, in the same block, and she'll take him to look around. 

“When can you get here?” she asks him. 

Not wanting to tell her he's standing outside, he thinks for a moment. “When is good for you?” he finally responds. 

“In an hour is best,” she replies, and he thanks her and tells her he'll be there in an hour before hanging up. 

He wanders around the neighborhood, getting a feel for the place. There are a lot of high rise apartment blocks, and although he feels slightly caged in he also feels safer than he's felt for a long time. 

After the hour is up, he finds himself being shown into an apartment on the top floor of the building by a no-nonsense older woman. If he had to guess he'd place her in her mid-sixties, but she still manages to climb the numerous flights of stairs without getting out of breath. Her gray hair is tightly curled against her head under a floral scarf, and her tan skirt is long and flowing. 

The apartment isn't much--one room with a small kitchen area and a bathroom--but it's enough for him. There's even a door out onto a small balcony. 

“I'll take it,” he tells the woman. 

“I'll need the first two months’ rent up front,” she says, holding out her hand, and he nods. 

“I will bring it down to you this afternoon.”

She eyes him suspiciously, but agrees, and leaves him with the key. He looks out over the city and smiles widely. He can make a home here. 

He takes the rent money out of his backpack and goes back down the stairs, making sure to lock the door as he goes. He knocks on her door and she opens it quickly, the smell of cooking cabbage wafting out from behind her. It reminds him of--

_”Ma, you know I don't like cabbage!”_

_“You need to eat your greens, Bucky. You're a growing boy.”_

_“But I don't wanna!”_

_“James, what did I just say?” And oh boy, when his ma calls him James he knows he's in trouble_

\--his childhood and his eyes widen. The woman looks at him questioningly, her eyebrows raised. 

“I have your money,” he says, and hands it over. She counts it as he stands there, her small eyes narrowing even further, then pockets it. 

“Rent is due on the first of every month. If you're late, you leave.”

“I won't be,” he assures her, before heading outside into the cooling afternoon air. He takes a few deep breaths, clearing the lingering scent of the cabbage from his nostrils, and goes off in search of some furniture. 

***

He finds a large market up Șoseaua Pantelimon, with everything he could possibly want. Fruit, vegetables, meat, bric-a-brac, and furniture all together in stalls surrounded by a teeming mass of bodies. He buys a mattress, a table, two folding chairs, and a chest of drawers at one of the stalls, asking if they have any way to transport it for him. 

The man behind the stall shrugs. “That will be an extra two hundred Leu.”

He thinks that might be a little steep, but knows he has no other option. “Okay,” he agrees, and the man looks delighted. 

“I tell you what, I'll throw in a sleeping bag and pillows for you for free,” the man says, leaving him wondering if he was supposed to haggle. But he needs what the man is offering so he nods, shaking the man's hand when he sticks it out. “I will deliver them at the end of the day. Payment on delivery, eh?”

“Thank you.” And he is very grateful. Everyone he talks to at the market is friendly, and in addition to the furniture he buys some toilet paper, toiletries, towels, dishes, cutlery, various kitchen bits, and some food: tomatoes, cheese, bread, chocolate biscuits, and bananas. His shopping done, he heads back towards his apartment, but pauses on the way there at a stall selling magazines. On the front cover of one of them is a photograph of Captain America, and he thinks for a moment before buying it. 

As soon as he's back in the apartment he opens the magazine to the article, reading about how Captain America helped save the world. There's a photograph of him in uniform, and he carefully tears it out, putting it into his notebook which is slowly filling up. He resolves to buy some glue the next day so he can stick the photograph in properly.


	8. Chapter 7

When his furniture is delivered, he pays the man and sets up the mattress on the floor, covering it in the sleeping bag and pillows. The chest of drawers he moves over to the wall on the far side of the room, behind the door. The windows, he tapes up with newspapers so no one can see inside. He unpacks his meager belongings, but keeps the bulk of the money and the various passports he's collected in his rucksack. He finds a loose floorboard and puts the rucksack underneath it. Just in case, he thinks. He hopes he never has to use it. 

He looks around the small apartment and nods to himself. It's not a lot, but it's his, and that's what counts. 

***

His first night in Bucharest he makes himself a cheese and tomato sandwich and settles down on his mattress, looking through his notebook. The memories he's written down are in no particular order, as jumbled on the page as they are in his mind. Holding the sandwich in one hand, he takes a pen up with the other, writing down the memories that have come to him over the last two days. 

Last night’s dreams were especially bad. He remembered riding a motorcycle along a mostly-deserted road, and killing a couple after forcing their car off the road. It's only now that he realises who the man was--Howard Stark, the inventor, a guy he knew well back when he was fighting HYDRA with Steve. He feels sick just thinking about it, but squashes the feelings down, scribbling everything he remembers into the notebook. 

He chews the end of his pen as he thinks of words, of ways to describe the horrors he's seen--that he's committed. He glances down at the sandwich in his other hand, appetite gone. Sighing heavily, he gets up and wraps the sandwich and puts it in the refrigerator. 

He checks the time on his phone; it's only eight p.m. but he's exhausted. Tomorrow he'll go and buy some more clothes, maybe some more things for his apartment, but for now he just needs sleep. He draws the flimsy curtains over the windows, then strips down to his boxers before climbing under the covers on his new mattress and falling asleep to the sounds of the city. 

***

_His ma, his pop, Steve, his fifth grade teacher Miss Watson, all calling on him: “Bucky! Bucky Barnes! Wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP”_

\--and he jolts out of sleep, wide awake. Sun is streaming in through the thin curtains, and tears well up in his eyes as the disjointed fragments of memories, identity, emotions all come together. Whole. He is whole. James Buchanan Barnes. 

His name is Bucky. 

***

His name is Bucky, but he can't go by that here. For the foreseeable future he has to remain as Luca Petrescu, but that's okay. Bucky knows who he is and he feels a sense of calm and a sense of his old self that he hasn't felt since before… before everything. 

He takes some money and pockets it before leaving the apartment. On the way down the stairs he passes an elderly couple who eye him curiously. 

“Bună ziua,” he greets them, and they smile in response. 

“You're the young man who just moved in upstairs?” the woman asks him. 

He nods. “I've been traveling for a while and came back to settle,” he lies, but it's as good a cover story as any. 

“That's nice,” the woman says, before eyeing him critically. “You're too skinny, though, young man. Do you not eat properly?”

“Probably not,” he replies with a laugh. 

“You come to us for dinner tonight. I'll cook you something tasty, get you fattened up.”

Her husband grins when Bucky hesitates. “You'd better say yes now and get it over with,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially. “The grandchildren are too far away for her to cook for and I think she misses it.”

Bucky smiles. “I would love to come for dinner.”

“Then it's settled!” the woman says triumphantly. “You come to us at seven. We’re in the apartment three floors below you.”

“Thank you,” Bucky responds, and means it. The couple smile at him and he continues on his way with a light heart.


	9. Chapter 8

Clothes shopping is an experience, and not necessarily one that Bucky wants to repeat any time soon. The shops are crowded, and all he wants to do is escape, but he grits his teeth and ends up with two pairs of jeans, an array of tops, three jackets, a few pairs of shoes, and some new underwear. By the time he's done he's exhausted, and stops into a small coffee shop. He orders a black coffee and a turta dulce, and sits outside in the warm July sunshine. 

Bucky watches the people milling about the streets, and wonders about each one: who they are, their histories, their secrets. He's sure none of them have secrets like his, but then he's almost certain no-one does. Bucky frowns at his almost-empty coffee cup, the knowledge suddenly coming upon him that it's only a matter of time before he's found. Old sins cast long shadows, as his ma used to say, and his sins are too great not to catch up with him. 

Still, it's a beautiful day, and they've not found him yet so he figures he might as well enjoy his freedom while it lasts. 

That evening, at seven on the dot, he knocks on the door of the elderly couple who had invited him for dinner. The woman answers the door, and immediately pulls him into a hug, kissing him on both cheeks. The close contact almost triggers his fight-or-flight response but he pushes it down and even manages to hug her back. 

He learns that their names are Domnul and Doamna Fieraru, and they have two sons and a daughter, who live in various parts of Romania. The daughter and one of the sons are married with children, but the other son is a little wayward. Doamna Fieraru speaks of him indulgently, and Bucky gets the feeling that despite the lad’s waywardness he's his mother's favourite. 

The couple’s apartment is cosy and friendly, with mismatched furniture and various ornaments dotted about the place. Doamna Fieraru ushers him over to the dining table and he sits on the seat she indicates to him. Domnul Fieraru sits at the head of the table and jokes with Bucky about how nice it is to have a fresh face around that his wife can feed. 

“When all her focus is on feeding me, it's not so good for the waistline,” he tells Bucky with a wink, and Bucky laughs, surprising himself. He doesn't remember the last time he laughed--

_Sat around the table with Steve and the other Howling Commandos the night before they were due to intercept the train, laughing and joking about anything that came into their heads_

\--and it feels strange to do so now, but it clearly pleases Domnul Fieraru as he winks again before sitting back on his chair. 

Doamna Fieraru serves up something that smells delicious. It seems to be some sort of stew, with meat and large pieces of vegetables, as well as lumps of potato. 

“Now, you clean your plate,” Doamna Fieraru tells him as she makes herself comfortable on her own chair. “A growing boy like you needs sustenance.”

Bucky ducks his head shyly, but does as he's told, and soon the only sounds are the clinking of cutlery against crockery. 

“You like it?” Doamna Fieraru asks him after a few moments, and he nods, swallowing his mouthful. 

“It's delicious. Thank you,” he says sincerely, and Doamna Fieraru looks pleased. “I've not had a home cooked meal in… a long time. You're very kind.”

Doamna Fieraru waves a dismissive hand. “It's my pleasure. I like to cook for a boy who can eat.”

He feels a pang of… something at her words. He's not a boy--is a good many years older than her, in fact--but it would do no good to tell her that. 

Instead, he smiles. “I think I’ll need your recipe.”

“Nonsense,” she says. “You come down here and I'll make it for you whenever you like.”

His heart swells at her kindness. “You're too good.”

“So tell us about yourself, Luca,” Domnul Fieraru says as he spears a piece of meat onto his fork. 

Bucky shrugs. “Not much to tell. I've travelled a lot over my life, and never really been settled anywhere the last thirty years.” That much is true, at least. “But I decided that it was time for me to find somewhere to settle, and I liked the idea of living in the capital.”

“What about your family?” Doamna Fieraru asks, and a lump rises in his throat. 

“They--they died a long time ago,” he says quietly. “It's been just me for a long time.”

Doamna Fieraru gives him a sympathetic look, placing her sun-browned hand over his gloved one, and he feels his eyes start to well up with tears. He blinks rapidly in an effort to make them disappear, and clears his throat. 

“Well, you have family in us now,” she says briskly. “We will take care of you, băiat, so don't you worry about that.”

Bucky is overcome with their kindness towards him, a stranger in their home, and for a moment is unable to speak. “Bless you,” he manages at length, and they both smile at him. 

After the stew Doamna Fieraru feeds him găluște cu prune for dessert, and he clears his plate before sitting back, satisfied. 

“That was a wonderful meal. You really are an excellent cook,” he tells her, and she swats at him. 

“Go on with you. It's just simple food, nothing special.”

“Well, it was delicious. Thank you again.”

“Come and sit with us for a while. You don't have to go yet, do you?” Domnul Fieraru asks him, and Bucky shakes his head. “Good,” the man continues. “It's no good to eat and run. Would you like a beer?”

Bucky hesitates for a moment. He hasn't touched alcohol since he escaped, but he figures it's unlikely to have any adverse effects, and so nods. “A beer would be great, thank you.”

Domnul Fieraru fetches two beers from the refrigerator and they sit down on the large, comfortable chairs. They're soft and squishy with several cushions and Bucky finds himself sinking deeper into his chair the longer he sits. He likes the feeling. 

Doamna Fieraru shows him photographs of their children and grandchildren, and she tells him more stories about the family when they were growing up. When he finally leaves, with a promise to drop in for Sunday dinner, he’s happier than he's felt since he escaped. He’s putting down roots, and it's a good feeling.


	10. Chapter 9

Over the next few weeks, he gets to know more of his neighbors. Mihaela (who lives directly below him, and whose golden hair cascades down her back almost to her knees when she wears it loose) he sees a lot in the laundry room and often helps her carry her clothes back up to her apartment. Ștefan lives on the second floor; Bucky meets him one day as they both arrive at the apartment block at the same time and they bond over a mutual love of poker. Bucky finds himself invited to Ștefan’s Friday night game and he gratefully accepts. After the first game he’s given a standing invitation, so most Friday nights he shows up with a crate of beer at Ștefan’s door and spends the evening in the company of people who are becoming his friends. 

He also gets to know people at the market he frequents on Șoseaua Pantelimon: Nicolae, who runs the fruit stall and shows Bucky photographs of his daughter, who is just learning to walk; Daria, who keeps bees and sells jars of her own honey; Elena, whose vegetables often find their way into Doamna Fieraru’s pot on a Sunday when Bucky goes there for dinner. 

They're all curious about the fact he wears gloves, even in the height of summer. He tells people he was in an accident and his hands are scarred. It's not the whole truth, but people accept it and don't ask any further questions, for which he's grateful. He doesn't know how he could possibly explain the truth. 

***

Summer turns to fall turns to winter, and the days get colder. He spends Christmas with Domnul and Doamna Fieraru and their family, finally meeting the children and grandchildren. Doamna Fieraru cooks a feast fit for twenty, and even Bucky, who still doesn't always have the best appetite, manages to do it justice. The children, who are still small, take to Bucky straight away, appropriating him as their own personal climbing frame. He laughs, wide and joyous, when the youngest clambers into his back and demands a horsie ride. 

“You don't have to,” her mother, Alexandra, says, looking embarrassed at how forward her child is being, but Bucky shakes his head. He gets down on all fours as the child clings to his shirt, and starts to crawl around the room, occasionally rearing up and making her squeal in delight. 

Of course, this leads the other children to demand horsie rides too, and he spends a good half an hour playing with them. When they finally let him up, distracted by the minciunele their bunică brings out for them, Doamna Fieraru smiles at him. 

“You're so good with the little ones,” she says softly. “Maybe some day you will have little ones of your own, hmm?”

Bucky feels a pang deep in his chest at the thought. “Maybe,” he says, managing to keep his tone noncommittal. He remembers his sister, and how much she loved horsie rides; how he always thought he'd have a chance to play horsies with his own kids. 

Doamna Fieraru looks at him, her expression gentle. “You have no one special in your life?”

Bucky shrugs. “There was someone, a long time ago, but… circumstances drove us apart.” He manages a smile. “Besides, what more do I need than the family I have here?”

She clicks her tongue. “You need someone to keep you warm on the cold nights. Some nice young woman--or a young man?”

Bucky freezes. “I…”

“I wasn't born yesterday, băiat,” she says with a smile. “I saw the way you were looking at Grigore.”

He glances at Grigore, the wayward son, who is handsome in his own way with short dark hair and deep brown eyes. “I don't mean to… I mean, I know this isn't the most open country to…” He pauses, frustrated at his lack of articulation, but Doamna Fieraru shakes her head. 

“Perhaps not, but I've been about long enough to know it takes all kinds to make a world, and that if the good god made you a certain way, then who am I to judge? No matter who you love, you will always be welcome in this house.”

Bucky finds himself tearing up, and clears his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out, and Doamna Fieraru pats his hand. 

“Here,” she says, taking a plate off of the table, “have some minciunele.”

He takes some of the sweet treats and they exchange a small smile. 

When Bucky returns to his own apartment that evening, he lays back on his lonely mattress and sighs. Doamna Fieraru’s words echo in his head, but he doesn't know that he could face letting in someone who didn't--couldn't--understand his life. 

He thinks back over the day with a smile. It's the first time he's celebrated Christmas since he left to fight a war that didn't end for him for over seventy years, and, despite everything, he feels content. 

***

As the months pass, Bucky starts to cautiously relax. No one has found him yet--he's not even sure if anyone is looking. He thought that Steve might… But Steve was badly injured when Bucky pulled him from the river--badly injured by Bucky--so he's probably keeping his distance. The thought that Steve wouldn't want him makes his heart hurt, and he rubs at his chest, trying to rid himself of the pain. 

He's filled out a lot in the last year or so that he's been living in Bucharest--Doamna Fieraru’s cooking and frequent trips to a local gym have meant that he's bulked up enough to please even his elderly neighbors. 

The life he has now isn't a life he'd imagined, and yet he's happy here. His apartment isn't so bare now--he's picked up quite a few knick knacks and gadgets, a bookcase and some other bits and pieces, and it looks more like a home now. His home. 

For Easter, he goes to church with his neighbors and then goes back to their apartment, where they eat and drink to the glory of god. Doamna Fieraru has made pască, and Bucky eats his fair share of the sweet bread. When he leaves for the evening, Doamna Fieraru packs some of the food into a plastic container for him to take with him. He wraps her in a hug, the first he's ever initiated, and when he pulls back she looks surprised, but pleased. 

Bucky drinks in all news of Steve--of Captain America--and when he reads about what happened in Sokovia his heart breaks for his old friend. He knows how much Steve has always just wanted to do what is right, and how much it must be hurting him that there were so many people he couldn't save. 

The memories come less often now, and in a less intrusive way. He remembers pretty much everything: growing up, going to war, fighting HYDRA… and then everything he did as the Winter Soldier. He wishes he could forget the things he was made to do, the sheer brutality of his actions, but he can't. 

He spent so long without memories; now sometimes he feels that he will drown in them. 

He keeps an eye on the newspapers, but aside from the occasional article about the Avengers being spotted in this city or that, there's very little news of Steve as a person. In a world which seems obsessed with celebrity culture this surprises Bucky, although perhaps it shouldn't: Steve has always been a very private guy. 

He's started to feel safe; started to feel like maybe his luck has turned. But then, nearly two full years since he escaped, it all goes to hell.


	11. Chapter 10

He's just been to the market to buy some fruit, including plums for Doamna Fieraru’s găluște cu prune, and is returning home when he clocks a guy at a newsstand watching him. As he covertly watches the man, he looks down at a newspaper, then back at Bucky, and as Bucky crosses the street towards him he jumps up and runs away, abandoning his stand. 

His heart sinking, Bucky goes up to the newsstand and looks down at the newspaper on the desk. The headline reads: “WINTER SOLDIER WANTED FOR THE BOMBING OF VIENNA”, and he suddenly feels sick. He reads on, devouring the details. There's a photograph of someone that looks like him, but it can't be him. It can't be. He's not left Bucharest since he arrived nearly two years ago, and he knows that when the bombing happened he was doing laundry with Mihaela. 

He turns on his heel and walks away, going straight back to his apartment building. He knows they're going to find him soon, but there are things he needs to do first. 

He’s already put all his notebooks but one into the rucksack--one is missing, but he'll look for it later--and hidden it again. Domnul and Doamna Fieraru have been on vacation, visiting their daughter, but they should be back by now. He can't leave without saying goodbye. He just can't do that to them, or himself. 

Domnul Fieraru opens the door and smiles wide when he sees Bucky standing there. 

“Luca! Come in, come in, we’ve just got back,” he says, leading Bucky inside the apartment. “It's such a trek to see Alexandra these days--we tried to convince her to move back but she likes the schools nearby to her, so we couldn't convince her.”

He turns to Bucky then, and his eyes take in Bucky's nervous energy: the apprehensive look on his face; the way he's practically wringing his hands; the way he's shifting from foot to foot. 

“Băiat, what is it?” he asks, as his wife comes to stand beside him. 

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” Bucky says quietly, feeling as though his heart might break. “I haven't been entirely honest about my past. I couldn't be. And now there are people looking for me because they think I did something terrible, but I swear I didn't, I swear it. No matter what you hear, know that I didn't do what they're saying I did.”

“Luca--” Doamna Fieraru begins, but Bucky interrupts her with a shake of his head. 

“My name isn't Luca. My name is Bucky. I'm an American. I was captured and tortured and made to do terrible things, and now they think I'm responsible for a bombing, but I promise you on my mother’s grave I was here when it happened.”

Doamna Fieraru steps towards him and hugs him tightly. “I'm sorry you feel like you had to lie to us,” she says quietly, pulling back. “But Luca or Bucky, whatever you want to call yourself, we know who you are. You are a good man, and a good soul. I believe you if you say you didn't do this terrible thing. But why do they think you did?”

“It was someone who looks like me. They had a photograph--it was in the newspaper. And now I believe they'll come for me. I wanted…” His eyes fill with tears and he blinks them back. “I wanted to say goodbye, and thank you for being so kind to me when I had no one. I'll miss your ciorba de perisoare,” he says with a forced laugh, before sobering, “and I will never forget you. Please, whatever happens, stay inside and stay safe.”

He hugs them both, knowing it might be the last time, and makes his way back up to his apartment. When he gets there, however, the door is slightly ajar, and he pushes it open then closes it, as quietly as he can.


	12. Chapter 11

There's a man standing in front of his refrigerator, flicking through the notebook he'd misplaced. Even without the outfit, Bucky would have known it was Steve from the way he holds himself, quiet confidence in every line of his body. He watches for a few moments before Steve says to no one, “Understood,” before sensing that someone is behind him, and turns around. 

Bucky's breath catches in his throat. He looks well--better than the last time Bucky had seen him, anyway, bruised and bloody and half drowned. Although he's seen several photographs of him since his escape, Bucky drinks in the sight of his old friend. 

“Do you know me?” Steve asks. 

“You're Steve,” Bucky replies, before his courage fails him and his eyes flick down to the floor. “I read about you at the museum.”

Steve observes him for a moment, and Bucky knows he doesn't believe him. He never could lie to Steve. 

“I know you're nervous,” Steve tells him. “And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying.”

There's no point in protesting. “I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that any more.” He wants to scream that he has a life here, with people who care about him, but knows it's no use. 

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now,” Steve says solemnly. “And they're not planning on taking you alive.”

Something in Bucky breaks as he sees the faces of all the people he's killed flash in front of his eyes. “That's smart,” he replies as he hears footsteps on the roof. So they've finally come. “Good strategy.”

“This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck.” And, god, hearing his name from Steve's lips is like music, but Bucky knows he's wrong. 

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky says resignedly, as he starts to take off his glove from his metal hand. 

“You pulled me from the river. Why?” Steve bites out as Bucky pulls the glove off fully. 

“I don't know,” Bucky lies. 

“Yes, you do.” Steve's words, like gunshots, precede by seconds the actual shots of gas canisters being fired through the window. 

Bucky kicks the one nearest him over towards Steve, who covers it with his shield before it can go off. Bucky barely even thinks, just reacts; he picks up his mattress from the floor to use as a shield against a third canister as he hears the tac team at his front door. 

He boots his table into the door, hard enough to block anyone from getting through for a while, but at that moment the tac team start flying through his windows. He has a brief thought that he's never getting his safety deposit back before he’s spurred into action. He punches one, making sure not to use his metal hand--he doesn't want to do that much damage--and he sees another shooting at Steve, who ducks out the way. He grabs the guy’s zipline and throws him against the wall to knock him out. 

Two down. 

Suddenly there's a crash as a third assailant bursts through the door to the balcony, right beside where Steve is standing. He sees Steve grab the guy’s gun as Bucky runs towards them, kicking the guy hard enough that he flies back out onto the balcony. Steve grabs at Bucky and he dodges, but Steve has a grip on his shoulder. 

“Buck, stop!” Steve shouts. “You're gonna kill someone!”

Bucky narrows his eyes and flips Steve over onto his back on the floor, then uses his metal fist to punch through the floorboard next to Steve's head to grab his hidden backpack. 

“I'm not going to kill anyone,” he says defiantly, before pulling the backpack out and throwing it out the window onto the roof opposite his apartment. It's a few floors down, but he doesn't even check that it landed safely, because another intruder comes in through the window and starts shooting. Bucky blocks with his metal arm, but then Steve pulls him behind his shield. 

There's someone else shooting at them through the window and Bucky aims Steve and his shield to deflect the shots, but they're not getting anywhere. Frustrated, anger rising, he uses Steve as a projectile, throwing him out the window onto the second shooter.

The first guy is still shooting, and Bucky walks towards him furiously, metal hand outstretched to block the bullets. As soon as he's close enough he takes hold of the guy and throws him into his bookshelves, destroying them. His apartment is a wreck now, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters any more. 

One of the first assailants gets up, conscious again, and Bucky doesn't hesitate. He picks up a concrete block from the floor--he'd been intending to build a bench on the balcony--and hits the guy with it, with such force the assailant goes flying into his bathroom door, unconscious again. 

Outside, he hears shotgun blasts against the door and knows it's only a matter of time before his only exit is breached. But Bucky knows that the best defense is a good offense. He punches through the wall with his metal hand, knocking someone down, then kicks the door out into the landing. 

He takes out three guys quickly, and before he can take stock another bursts through the skylight on a zipline, shooting as he goes. Bucky blocks the shots with his metal arm, then grabs the guy’s gun, pulling him into the wall and knocking him out. 

Bucky quickly takes out two more guys with a battering ram he finds on the floor, but there are more coming up the stairs. Without even thinking he jumps onto the guy hanging from the ceiling, riding him down a floor before jumping off and taking out as many as he can. He's fighting his way out, kicking and punching anyone he can reach, when Steve appears out of nowhere, jumping onto the landing nearby just as Bucky misjudges the distance and accidentally sends a guy over the railings. Before the guy can fall to his death, Steve grabs him and hauls him back up. 

Steve gives Bucky an incredulous look. “Come on, man,” he pleads, but Bucky is too furious to care. So much was taken from him, and now they're going to take the life he's built here too. His rage and sadness fuel him as he elbows the guy behind him in the face, knocking him unconscious. 

He grabs the railing and breaks it, riding it down to the floor below and kicking an assailant through the door of an apartment he knows is empty. He fights two more, and he wonders if it's ever going to end when he sees another taking aim at him from the stairs above. Before he can react the guy is knocked out by Steve's shield. Bucky looks up at his old friend, a thank you trembling on his lips; instead, he jumps down the center of the stairwell, falling four floors before grabbing the railing with his metal hand to stop his fall and crying out in agony as it wrenches his shoulder. 

Bucky hauls himself up onto the landing and kicks down the door of another empty apartment, running straight through and leaping over the balcony, landing hard on his shoulder on the roof below. He grunts in pain as he rolls over, but doesn't stop moving, getting up and grabbing his backpack as he goes.


	13. Chapter 12

He's free and clear, or so he thinks, until he hears someone behind him as he runs and suddenly someone hits him on the back of the shoulders and he's knocked down. 

He's surprised, to say the least, when he looks up and sees someone getting up from a crouch, dressed as--he takes in the ears--a big black cat of some sort? Then the big cat flexes his hands and Bucky sees metal claws and his only thought is “What the fuck?” before he's attacked. 

Whoever this person is, he's an excellent fighter, almost better than Bucky himself, despite his training. Bucky finds himself on the defense, getting in a few punches but mostly trying to avoid the claws. Again he only uses his real hand to attack; his metal arm he uses for defense, because whoever this is, he's pretty sure they're still human. 

The guy knocks him down, onto the ventilation system, and he dodges just in time, eyes widening and mouth dropping open in shock as the big cat drags his claws down where Bucky's head had been only moments before. 

He's knocked onto his back, the big cat hovering above him ready to strike, when he hears gunshots from a helicopter above. The shots bounce off the man as he stands, looking at the helicopter and seeming completely unconcerned. As the helicopter hovers, someone with wings--he looks familiar, but Bucky can't place him from this distance--attacks the helicopter, sending it into a tailspin. 

Bucky kicks the big cat off him, then runs, grabbing his backpack as he goes. He jumps off the side of the building onto a ledge below, then down to the ground. He can see the big cat still chasing him and he keeps running as the helicopter reappears above and starts shooting. Bucky dodges and jumps down from a bridge onto the road below, running into the tunnel against the oncoming traffic. 

He keeps running, hearing sirens behind him, and picks up the pace, jumping up and running over the car in front of him. When he reaches the end of the tunnel he's confronted by several cars, lights flashing and sirens blaring, and he dodges over to the other side of the road. He's more than glad for all his years as the Winter Soldier now; all those years of HYDRA training has given him practice in tactical evasion. 

As he runs, he sees a motorcycle coming towards him, and on impulse he grabs the handlebar as it passes, knocking the rider off as the motorcycle lifts up into the air. Bucky mounts it in midair before landing and riding off under the next tunnel. 

He weaves through the traffic, when suddenly the big cat leaps from the car behind onto the back of the motorcycle. In an attempt to get the guy off his bike Bucky leans the bike over as close to the ground as he can, using his metal arm to keep the bike from crashing. But the guy is still clinging on so Bucky desperately kicks him off the back of the bike as the big cat is about to claw at him. 

He rights the bike and pulls one of the explosive devices he'd appropriated from the HYDRA drop point from his pocket, throwing it up on the ceiling of the tunnel as he rides underneath. He hears the explosion behind him but before he can feel any kind of relief he's thrown from the bike as the back tyre bursts. 

The big cat looms over him and he braces himself for the attack, but before anything can happen Steve tackles the guy and pushes him away. Bucky pushes himself to his feet as Steve stands beside him, both of them watching the guy warily as more cars with wailing sirens pull up in front of them. 

Bucky tenses, poised and ready to fight his way out, but Steve holds his hand up, motioning for him to stay back, and Bucky takes a deep breath. The fight goes out of him as he's surrounded, pushed to his knees and then onto the ground as his hands are cuffed. 

A man in a metal suit--Bucky thinks his name is War Machine, from what he's read--lands in front of them. 

“Congratulations, Cap,” he says to Steve, “you're a criminal.”

The big cat takes his hood off to reveal a handsome young man, and Bucky looks at him curiously as the War Machine calls him “your highness”. 

But Bucky doesn't ask questions. He knows that if he makes a wrong move his captors will have no problem with killing him. Instead he goes with them docilely, trying to make himself as unthreatening as possible.


	14. Chapter 13

They load him into a containment unit--a cage of reinforced glass and metal, and it feels so like the cryo unit they used to keep him in that Bucky has to focus on his breathing so he doesn't panic. He's transported with an armed guard in the back of a truck to the airport, where he's loaded onto a plane. 

He tests the restraints they've put him in, flexing his metal arm surreptitiously. They're strong, but he knows he's stronger. Still, he remains as unmoving as possible. To try and break out now would be madness; they'd just come looking for him again. He'd never be done running. Better to wait and see what they've got planned for him. 

The flight is short, and when they reach their destination he's put into the back of another van with two guards, both heavily armed. He doesn't blame them. The Winter Soldier was ruthless, and although that isn't him any more, they don't know that; don't know that he's Bucky, now. 

At length, the vehicle stops and he's unloaded onto a forklift truck which transports him through a large, brightly lit room. The forklift stops and he sees Steve get out a van out the corner of his eye, but he doesn't dare look at him yet. 

Steve walks towards a short, squinty looking blond guy and Bucky watches curiously as they converse. He wonders what they're saying; wonders what his fate is to be. 

Steve turns around and catches his eye briefly before walking away. Bucky watches him go, then turns to stare straight ahead, trying not to think about the fate that might await him. 

***

They move his containment unit into a small room with a table and chair, and security cameras everywhere. One of the guards plugs the containment unit into the main power, before stepping to one side. There are several guards in the room, and Bucky finds himself thinking about the best way to take them all out before shaking his head. He doesn't do that any more. 

He wonders what they have planned for him. 

A man with dark hair and glasses is shown into the room, and the guards leave. 

“Hello, Mr Barnes,” the man says, and Bucky tilts his head back so he's looking at the ceiling. No one has called him that in as long as he can remember. “I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you,” the man continues. “Mind if I sit?”

Bucky stays silent. Evaluation? What kind of evaluation?

“Your first name is James?” the man asks, 

Bucky’s head droops. He wants to scream “Only my ma calls me that!” but he's too used to bottling up his emotions, so he says nothing. 

“I'm not here to judge you. I'm just here to ask you a few questions.”

He risks a glance up and sees the man looking at him patiently. 

“Do you know where you are, James?”

Bucky almost laughs. Of course he fucking doesn't. No one has bothered to tell him. 

“I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James.”

He hates being called James. It's not his name. Not what people call him, anyway. Not what Steve calls him. 

He lifts his head. “My name is Bucky,” he says hoarsely. 

The man looks at him searchingly. “Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?”

“I don't wanna talk about it,” Bucky replies, because he's been through it all in his notebooks and he's not going to talk to some stranger about all the violence he's witnessed. The violence he's committed. 

“You feel that if you open your mouth the horrors might never stop?” the man asks. “Don't worry. We only have to talk about one.”

That's unexpected, and kind of odd, and Bucky is suddenly on the alert. Something is wrong here. 

At that moment, the power goes off, and red lights start flashing. 

“What the hell is this?” Bucky asks, turning his head back to face the man. 

“Why don't we discuss your home?” the man says. “Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no.” The man goes into his bag and brings out a book that's all too familiar. Bucky's mouth goes dry and his heart starts racing hard. It can't be. It can't be. “I mean your real home,” the man continues as Bucky stares in horror at the red book. 

The man stands, opening the book and walking towards Bucky. 

“Желание.”

“No,” Bucky whispers, feeling as though the wind has been knocked out of him. 

“Ржавый.”

“Stop.” Where is his voice? He breathes deeply. 

“Семнадцать.”

“Stop!” he says, more loudly this time, almost shouting. 

“Рассвет.” 

Bucky growls, feeling his mind start to slip away from him, and the growing feeling of panic overtaking him. “Bucky, my name is Bucky, my name is Bucky,” he thinks wildly to himself as he screams, then grunts as he rips his way out of the metal restraints. 

“Печь.”

Bucky starts to bang on the door of the unit, trying to smash through the glass with his metal arm, anything to escape. 

“Девять.”

The glass is starting to crack now but it's not quick enough oh god oh god oh god…

“Добросердечный.”

He keeps pounding, cracking the glass further, his mind slipping further and further into the darkness of obedience. 

“Возвращение на родину, Один.”

He's almost through, he can feel the door start to give, if he can just get through before he--

“Грузовой вагон.”

The door bursts open, just as Bucky's mind goes completely blank. 

_я готов отвечать_


	15. Chapter 14

Bucky comes back to himself on a concrete floor, his metal arm trapped under something heavy. Images flash before his vision: bodies hitting the floor; fighting Steve and his friends; a man--

_”Mission report. December sixteenth, nineteen ninety one”_

\--questioning him. The man who was supposed to be evaluating him. 

He hears someone say, “Hey, Cap?” and looks up. The man the magazines call “The Falcon” is standing watching him. 

Steve walks into the room, and Bucky almost heaves a sigh of relief. “Steve,” he says hoarsely. 

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks, looking wary. 

“Your mom’s name was Sarah.” Bucky smiles. “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes,” he finishes with a chuckle, and Steve visibly relaxes. 

“You can't read that in a museum.”

“Just like that we’re supposed to be cool?” the Falcon asks incredulously. 

“What did I do?” Bucky asks, dreading the answer. 

“Enough,” Steve responds. 

Bucky feels sick. “Oh god, I knew this would happen,” he says, utterly dejected. “Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

“Who was he?” 

“I don't know.”

“People are dead.” Steve's expression is hard and Bucky suppresses a wince. “The bombing, the set up. The doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you. I need you to do better than ‘I don't know’.”

Bucky thinks for a moment, memories flashing across his consciousness. “He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

“Why would he need to know that?”

Bucky looks up at him, trying not to show the fear he feels. “Because I'm not the only Winter Soldier.”

“What?” Falcon looks appalled, and Bucky doesn't blame him. 

“There were experiments, with a serum. On volunteers. It made them hurt at first, but then it stopped hurting and they were stronger, faster. More aggressive. But also more difficult to control than I was. There was a riot and they got put into cryo.”

“Who were they?” Steve asks. 

“The most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. That was before the serum.”

Falcon looks at him searchingly. “They all turn out like you?”

“Worse,” Bucky replies. 

“The doctor, could he control them?” Steve enquires. 

“Enough,” Bucky responds, looking at his lap. 

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall,” Steve tells them. 

“With these guys, he could do it,” Bucky says quietly. “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They could take down a whole country in one night. You'd never see them coming.” And just knowing that he used to be part of that makes the nausea come back full force. God, he's a monster. 

Falcon walks up to Steve, and says in low tones that Bucky isn't sure he's supposed to hear, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.”

“If we call Tony--” Steve starts, but Falcon cuts him off. 

“No, he won't believe us.”

“Even if he did…”

“Who knows if the Accords would let him help.”

Bucky had read about the Sokovia Accords--knows that was where the bombing took place. He also knows that Steve wasn't going to sign them and wonders why. 

“We’re on our own,” Steve continues. 

“Maybe not,” Falcon responds. “I know a guy.”

Steve nods. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.” He strides over to Bucky and start to free his arm. 

“You sure that's a good idea?” Falcon asks, and Steve shoots him a look. 

“I'm sure.”

Bucky pulls his arm free and flexes his fingers. No damage done. Steve puts out a hand and Bucky takes it, letting Steve pull him up from the floor. Steve looks at him for a moment, before pulling him into a hug. 

“Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky says with a smile, trying to stop the tears which are threatening. 

“This is Sam,” Steve tells him, pointing to Falcon. “Sam, this is Bucky.”

“Pleasure,” Bucky says politely. 

“Uh huh,” Sam responds, and Bucky realises that Sam doesn't trust him at all. He supposed that's fair, but it still stings. “I'd better go make the call to my guy,” Sam continues, and Steve nods. 

“I've got a couple of calls to make too.”

As they both make their phone calls, Bucky hangs around, looking at his surroundings. They seem to be in some kind of warehouse, and he wonders where they are. 

Phone calls made, Steve leads them outside to where an old, faded Volkswagen Beetle is sitting. 

Bucky looks at Steve incredulously. “This is our getaway car?”

Steve shrugs. “We needed something that wouldn't draw attention.”

Bucky smirks, but says nothing. Sam narrows his eyes. 

“I claim shotgun.”

Bucky nods, disappointed. “Okay,” he says, before climbing into the back seat. It's uncomfortable; there isn't a lot of legroom and Bucky feels squashed in. 

Sam and Steve get in, and Steve drives off. Some time in the last few years he's learned to be a better driver--better than Bucky remembers from the old days, anyway--and his death grip on the seat soon relaxes. 

“So I have some questions,” Bucky says, and Steve looks at him in the rearview mirror. 

“Shoot.”

“Okay, first of all, where are we? No one’s actually told me where we are and I'm a little disoriented.”

“Berlin,” Steve tells him. “We're in Berlin.”

Bucky nods, looking out the window at the passing city. Of course they are. 

“And my second question is, who the hell is the guy in the cat costume?”

“King T’Challa of Wakanda,” Steve replies. “It was his father who was killed in the bombing. I guess he wants revenge.”

Bucky nods. He understands that, even though he's not actually responsible for the bombing. 

The rest of the drive passes in relative silence; Bucky is lost in thought as more memories come back to him--

_So much death, so many bodies, he could have killed another Stark, he could have killed_ Steve _oh god he's unfit to live, maybe Steve shouldn't have come for him, just left him to die in Bucharest_

\--until they reach a secluded area where a car is already waiting, a blonde woman beside it. 

“Wait here,” Steve tells them before getting out. Bucky can't hear what they're saying, and sighs. His legs are starting to cramp. 

“Can you move your seat up?” he asks Sam, trying not to sound surly and not sure he manages it. 

“No,” Sam replies shortly, and Bucky scowls, moving along the back seat instead. 

He watches Steve interact with the blonde woman, and then Steve is kissing her and Bucky feels his heart break. Steve has clearly moved on--of course he has, it's been over seventy years, but it still hurts a lot to see. Steve looks towards them and Bucky manages a smile. At least he's happy. 

Steve looks embarrassed when he sees Bucky's smile. Bucky wonders why. 

Steve takes their gear out of the trunk of the car in front and loads it into theirs, and they drive off. 

“Where are we going?” Bucky asks. 

“The airport,” Steve replies. “We're getting a chopper from there.”

Bucky nods and watches the city go by out the car window. He thinks about what the doctor had said, about Siberia being his real home, and shivers. He can't believe he has to go back.


	16. Chapter 15

They pull up next to a van in the airport car park and they all get out as a man and woman climb out the van. Bucky recognizes them both as Avengers--Hawkeye and the one they call Scarlett Witch, although Bucky thinks her name is actually Wanda. 

There's another man in the back of the van who Bucky doesn't know, but Sam had mentioned that they were calling in someone called Scott Lang, so Bucky assumed this is him. He's all over Steve in a way that's kind of hilarious, clearly star struck, but they're running out of time. 

“We should get moving,” Bucky tells them. 

“We got a chopper lined up,” Hawkeye responds. 

Suddenly, there's an announcement in German over the PA system. Bucky listens closely, trying not to panic when he hears what they're saying. 

“They're evacuating the airport,” he translates. 

“Stark,” Sam says darkly. 

Scott looks questioningly at them. “Stark?”

“Suit up,” Steve instructs them. 

They get changed into their suits--Steve has got him a black outfit to wear, which Bucky is thankful for. They also each get radio transmitter ear pieces for communication. As soon as they're ready, Steve sends them off in groups to different parts of the airport. Bucky is paired with Sam, and he can practically hear Sam’s silent groan of disappointment. 

They head up into the terminal, and a tiny little jet flies off Sam’s suit and goes outside. They're looking for something called a quinjet, and Bucky just hopes they find it soon. 

“There you are,” Sam says quietly, before speaking louder, and Bucky hears the slight delay in his earpiece as Sam talks. “We found it. The quinjet's in hangar five, north runway.”

He and Sam start to run towards the hangar. As they run, Bucky can hear everyone talking through the earpiece, and it's slightly off putting. Suddenly, there's a flash of something blue and red running on the roof. 

“What the hell was that?” he asks. 

Sam doesn't exactly reply, instead complaining, “Everyone’s got a gimmick now.”

Bucky would laugh, but at that moment someone crashes through the glass window, kicking Sam and knocking him down. Bucky goes to punch them with his metal arm, but they grab his fist and he can't move. It's been quite a while since he met someone stronger than him, and it throws him. 

“You have a metal arm? That's awesome, dude!” And oh god, he sounds like he's just a kid. Why is there a kid in this fight? And how is he so strong? Before he can ask, Sam flies past, grabbing the kid on his way. Bucky watches them for a moment, then as the kid escapes and starts chasing Sam he picks up the nearest heavy object and throws it at the kid, hoping to distract him. 

A few seconds later he hears the kid shout, “Hey, buddy, I think you lost this!” and it comes flying back, hitting the pillar Bucky is hiding behind with such force it crashes straight through. 

Sam and the kid banter back and forth for a while as Bucky watches, alert. He sees the kid swinging through the air to kick Sam and dives in front of him. But the kid is too strong, and both he and Sam are thrown, crashing through the glass railing to the floor below. 

As they both lay there, winded, the kid shoots something sticky and strong out of his wrists, binding Bucky's metal arm to the floor. Bucky's so confused he misses most of what the kid says, only catching a bit about “one job to do”, but as the kid goes to shoot more of whatever that stuff is out his wrist, one of Sam’s little mini planes flies past, catching the stuff and dragging the kid through the window. 

“You couldn't have done that earlier?” Bucky asks, more to piss Sam off than for any other reason. 

“I hate you,” Sam responds, and yeah, okay, he supposes he deserves that. He's been sensing a lot of hostility from Sam, and wonders if it's because Bucky tried to kill him or for some other reason. Although, Bucky muses, someone trying to kill you is a damn good reason to be hostile. 

Bucky frees himself from the sticky stuff--it looks like a spider’s web up close but that's just really weird--and then helps Sam, both of whose hands are bound by the substance. Sam nods in thanks before they take off at a run for the hangar. 

They meet the others outside as they run towards the hangar where the quinjet is stored, but then suddenly there's a blinding light as Vision draws a line in the concrete with a beam from the stone in his forehead. 

“Captain Rogers,” Vision says. “I know you believe what you're doing is right. But for the collective good… you must surrender now.”

The other Avengers--those who signed the accords--gather opposite them, along with the kid, who Bucky now sees has a spider on his costume, and King T’Challa, who stands opposite him. 

“What do we do, Cap?” Sam asks. 

“We fight,” Steve responds, and Bucky nearly snorts. Of course Steve would choose to fight. He has a sudden flashback of a little guy fending off two enormous jerks, never backing down, and hides a smile.


	17. Chapter 16

They start to walk towards the opposing force, who follow suit. Steve starts to run and they follow; the opposition start to run too, both side gaining momentum until they meet in the middle. 

T’Challa pounces on Bucky as soon as he's close enough, but unlike the last time they met Bucky isn't pulling his punches. He has to reach Siberia before the doctor. He has to stop him. 

He uses his metal arm as well as the real one, knocking T’Challa down, although he doesn't stay down long. Bucky puts his metal hand around T’Challa’s throat, squeezing just enough to make him stop and try to force Bucky away with his knee. 

“I didn't kill your father,” he tells the king. 

“Then why did you run?” T’Challa snarls. 

Bucky could give him a laundry list of reasons why he ran, at the top of which would be those damn claws, but then T’Challa pushes Bucky's arm away before flipping him over then kicking him into a pile of concrete blocks. T’Challa comes at him, claws out. Right before they make contact with his face T’Challa’s hands are surrounded by a glowing red light as Wanda uses her powers to fling T’Challa away from him. 

Bucky runs, meeting up with Steve as they each hide behind some airplane stairs. 

“We gotta go,” Bucky says, trying not to let his panic show. “That guy’s probably in Siberia by now.”

“We gotta draw out the flyers,” Steve responds. “I'll take Vision, you get to the jet.”

“No, you get to the jet,” Sam says in his ear. “Both of you. The rest of us aren't getting out of here.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” he hears Hawkeye say, “if we're gonna win this one some of us might have to lose it.”

“This isn't the real fight, Steve.” Sam's right, it's not, but Bucky knows how loath Steve will be to leave his friends. He and Steve look at each other in understanding, no words needed, and Bucky suddenly feels warm. 

“All right, Sam, what's the play?” Steve asks. 

“We need a diversion,” Sam replies. “Something big.”

“I got something kinda big,” Scott interjects. “But I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half, don't come back for me.”

Bucky huffs. “He's gonna tear himself in half?” he asks, equal parts concerned and confused. 

“You sure about this, Scott?” Steve enquires. 

“I do it all the time! I mean once. In a lab. Then I passed out.”

Steve and Bucky watch as Scott suddenly grows into a giant--about a hundred feet tall and looking terrifying. 

“I guess that's the signal,” Steve deadpans. 

“Way to go, Tic-Tac!” Sam whoops. 

They run, hoping Scott's diversion will keep everyone else occupied. As they near the hangar, it starts to collapse, thanks to Vision using the beam from his head on the roof, but then the falling debris is surrounded by glowing red as Wanda works to keep it from falling. They run into the hangar just in time as the front of the building falls, only to be faced by Natasha. 

“You're not gonna stop.” She makes it more a statement than a question. 

“You know I can't,” Steve responds. 

Natasha sighs. “I'm gonna regret this,” she says, before shooting tasers from her wrist into T’Challa, who has sneaked in behind them. 

“Go,” she tells him, and they do, climbing into the quinjet as fast as they can while Natasha holds off T’Challa. 

They blast their way through the rubble and fly off. Iron Man and War Machine give chase, but they soon drop off the radar and Bucky assumes they've been diverted by the other members of the team. 

Finally, they're on their way to Siberia. Back to where he was kept for years. Back to the place he’d always wanted to escape. Back to more fighting.


	18. Chapter 17

The quinjet is fast, but it still takes a few hours. They're mostly silent, and Bucky looks out the window, seeing mountains flying past beneath them. 

“What's gonna happen to your friends?” Bucky asks Steve, staring at his hands. He's afraid of the answer, so afraid that Steve's friends are going to be hurt because of him. 

Steve sighs. “Whatever it is… I'll deal with it.”

Bucky looks out the window. “I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve,” he says softly. He knows he's not. The things he's done…

Steve seems to read his mind. “What you did all those years… it wasn't you,” Steve says emphatically. “You didn't have a choice.”

“I know,” Bucky replies, turning towards Steve to look at him. “But I did it.” 

Steve looks pained, and again Bucky can't help but wish that Steve had never come to get him, had just left him to his fate. He's brought a world of trouble to his friend’s door. Bucky would give anything to make it right, but he doesn't know how. 

They travel the rest of the way without speaking, both lost in their own thoughts, until they finally land in the freezing ice and snow of Siberia, just outside a building that Bucky knows all too well. His heart starts to beat faster but he breathes deep, trying to calm himself. He can do this. He has to do this. 

“Weapons are in there,” Steve says, pointing, and Bucky pulls out the rack labeled “Natasha Romanoff”. He looks at the array of guns, hating that he has to arm himself again, before reluctantly grabbing an M249E2 SAW Paratrooper from the rack, and going to stand beside Steve next to the ramp. He has to give himself a quick shake as he stands there, the lack of sleep starting to catch up with him, even with his enhanced endurance. 

“Remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asks as the hatch slowly opens. 

Bucky does. “Was that the time you used our train money to buy hotdogs?” he responds with a smile. 

“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead,” is Steve's rejoinder, and Bucky laughs. 

“What was her name again?” It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't quite grasp it. 

“Dolores,” Steve replies without hesitation. “You called her ‘Dot’.”

“She's gotta be a hundred years old now,” Bucky says, shaking his head. 

“So are we, pal,” Steve says, before squeezing his shoulder, and they exchange an understanding glance before heading out into the frigid snow and howling wind. 

They stand, looking up at the building. “He can't have been here longer than a few hours,” Steve observes. 

“Long enough to wake them up,” Bucky responds grimly. 

They head in through the door, which is already open, and Bucky leads Steve towards the elevator which will take them down to where the other Winter Soldiers were kept. As the elevator moves downwards, Steve and Bucky look at each other. Steve nods first, then Bucky. Bucky's missed this, their ability to communicate without words. He's not had that with anyone since. 

The elevator stops and Steve nods again before lifting the grate once the doors are open. Bucky walks in front, gun raised and finger beside the trigger as Steve follows behind him. 

As they walk up a small flight of stairs there's a noise behind them. They both turn; Bucky raises his gun and Steve stands in front, shield protecting them both. The door slowly creaks open. 

“You ready?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replies. Of course he's ready. He was trained for combat situations like this. 

The door finally opens, but instead of a Winter Soldier, there stands Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit. As he comes through the door, Tony’s helmet recedes to reveal his face. 

Steve walks towards him, shield still up, as Bucky remains where he is, gun trained on Tony. 

“You seem a little defensive,” Tony says, and Bucky nearly snorts. 

“It's been a long day,” Steve retorts, nodding. 

“At ease, soldier. I'm not currently after you,” Tony tells Bucky, but Bucky doesn't trust him, not after Berlin, and keeps his gun raised. 

“Then why are you here?” Steve asks. 

“Could be your story’s not so crazy. Maybe.” Tony pauses. “Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise I gotta arrest myself,” he jokes. 

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” is Steve's response, and Tony scoffs. “It's good to see you, Tony,” Steve says, lowering his shield. 

“You too, Cap,” Tony replies, before looking at Bucky, who still has his weapon trained on Tony's head. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me,” Tony says inexplicably. “There's a truce here. You can drop…”

Steve raises his hand to signal that it's all okay, and Bucky lowers his gun. 

“You know where we’re going?” Tony asks. 

“Bucky does,” Steve replies. 

“I should probably go first, just in case. Plus I can scan through walls for heat signatures so we're not ambushed.”

Steve and Bucky nod, and Tony walks in front as Bucky guides him through the maze of corridors. 

“So what made you believe us?” Steve asks. 

“Uh, I may have discovered that the guy posing as the doctor wasn't a doctor at all. His name is Helmut Zemo. Sokovian.” Suddenly, Tony pauses. “I've got heat signatures,” he tells them. 

“How many?” Steve asks. 

“Uh. One.”

That's strange, but one is promising. Maybe he's not been able to wake the others up yet. Bucky really hopes that the case.


	19. Chapter 18

They walk into a large, dark room that Bucky recognizes all too well. As they walk in, the cryo chambers light up, and Bucky is hit with a thousand memories, each worse than the last. He grits his teeth and keeps moving. 

He can see that the Winter Soldiers are still in the chambers, and he heaves a sigh of relief. Maybe they're not too late after all. 

Suddenly, a voice sounds over the speaker. “If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep,” Zemo says, as they walk forward. “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

As they approach, Bucky can see that each one has a bullet wound through their forehead and he's suddenly on the alert. This isn't right. This can't be right. 

“What the hell?” he says, angry and confused. Did Zemo trigger him for nothing?

“I'm grateful to them, though,” Zemo continues. “They brought you here.”

A light shines through a window at the back of the room and Steve immediately throws his shield at it. The shield bounces straight off the window and back to him. 

“Please, Captain,” Zemo says. “The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I'm betting I could beat that,” Tony responds. 

“Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr Stark,” Zemo says lightly. “Given time. But then you'd never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people just to bring us here?” Steve asks, before walking up to the glass behind which Zemo is standing. 

“I've thought about nothing else for over a year,” Zemo says, so quietly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. “I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized… there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes.” Zemo chuckles. “How nice to find a flaw.”

“You're Sokovian,” Steve says. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell,” Zemo responds. “No. I'm here because I made a promise.”

“You lost someone.”

“I lost _everyone_ ,” Zemo whispers. “And so will you.” A video starts to play on the small screen, reading ‘sixteen December nineteen ninety one’ in Russian. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That's dead.”

Steve and Tony crowd around the TV screen, but Bucky stays where he is, his gun still trained on Zemo. 

“I know that road,” Tony says quietly, before shouting, “What is this?” towards Zemo. 

Bucky already knows what it is. He remembers it like it was yesterday. Tony is staring at the screen, but Steve is watching Tony, and Bucky wonders if he knows, too. 

The video plays on. He hears Mrs Stark shout, “Howard!” on the recording and he flinches. He risks a glance at Tony, who is watching the recording with an expression of pain on his face. 

As the recording finishes, the tears which Bucky has been holding back since he escaped threaten to fall, and a single tear slides down his cheek. Tony makes a move towards him, but Steve holds him back. 

“No, Tony, Tony,” he says, his tone soothing, and Tony whips around to face him. 

“Did you know?” Tony asks. 

“I didn't know it was him,” Steve says, but he's always been a shitty liar and Bucky knows he's lying now. 

“Don't bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?” And god, although Tony's still whispering it sounds like a shout. 

“Yes.”

Tony pulls away, then backhands Steve suddenly, sending him flying. Bucky raises his gun in reaction but Tony blasts it away. Bucky goes for Tony with his metal hand, but Tony blocks him easily. Tony grabs him by the throat and flies fast with him across the room before slamming him down on the ground and standing on his metal arm. 

Out of nowhere, Steve's shield hits Tony. Tony runs towards Steve but Steve hits him with his shield and Tony flies backwards. Tony gets up, and propels himself forward, smacking into Steve, and now it's Steve's turn to go flying. 

Tony shoots restraints out of his wrist, binding Steve's ankles as Bucky gets up. He punches Tony with his metal arm, but Tony grabs him and flies with him again high up onto a wall. Tony goes to blast him with his hand but Bucky grabs the hand and twists it round, cracking it with the force of his grip. 

Tony tries to shoot him with his wrist but Bucky blocks, and a rocket flies into the wall to their right. Bucky suddenly realizes that Tony isn't messing around; he seriously wants to kill him. 

They punch at each other as the wall the rocket hit starts to topple. Tony drops Bucky, who lands heavily, rolling out the way of the falling debris just in time. He gets up and sees Steve. 

“Get out of here!” Steve shouts, and Bucky does, hating that he's running away and leaving Steve to fight. He runs into a large, high room surrounded by platforms and hits a button to make the roof rise up and open. He starts to climb, leaping from platform to platform, but Tony isn't far behind. 

As he nears the top, he jumps to another platform, but as he pulls himself up Tony appears and kicks him. He lands on a platform opposite, pain blossoming. He sees Tony shoot but Steve is suddenly there in front of him, shield raised. The shot bounces off the shield back onto Tony, who falls to the platform beneath. 

Steve pulls Bucky up. “He's not gonna stop,” Steve says. “Go.” Bucky looks down at Tony and sees him already starting to get up. He runs and jumps to a higher platform, climbing as quickly as he can.


	20. Chapter 19

He's at the top and almost out when Tony blasts the roof hinge, causing it to fall closed with a crash that shakes the whole room, and Bucky gasps as his only route out disappears and he falls into the platform below. 

He growls in anger as he sees Tony fly up and grabs a metal pole, hitting Tony with it as hard as he can. As he swings again, Tony disarms him and gets him in a chokehold. 

“Do you even remember them?” Tony whispers in his ear. 

“I remember all of them,” Bucky responds, the pain of the memories almost too great to bear. Tony suddenly takes off with him and starts flying down to the ground. Half way down, Steve jumps onto them and Tony loses his grip, falling to the ground with Steve, as Bucky lands heavily on one of the platforms with a groan. 

He rolls over onto his side--he's pretty sure he's got at least a few bruised ribs, if not worse--and sees Steve laying on the ground. As he watches, Steve gets up. 

“This isn't gonna change what happened,” Steve tells Tony. 

“I don't care,” Tony responds, sounding like a lost child. “He killed my mom.”

Tony flies towards Steve and they start to fight, each throwing punches. Steve gets Tony in a chokehold but Tony quickly escapes. 

As they fight, Bucky looks over and sees Steve's shield on the platform just along from where he's lying. He grabs the shield and jumps, hitting Tony in the back with it. Tony rolls off of Steve and goes to blast Bucky, but Bucky holds up the shield to block it. 

He throws the shield to Steve and they begin to fight together, movements almost completely in sync, sharing the shield between them. They're moving quickly, one punch or strike following another rapidly. Although it's heartbreaking that they're fighting one of Steve's friends, something about it feels almost good--he and Steve, a team again. 

Tony knocks Steve down, and Bucky starts to fight Tony himself, stopping him from blasting Steve by redirecting the beam from his hand into the ceiling. 

Bucky is done now, and feels that it's time to end the fight before Steve gets badly hurt. He knocks Tony into the wall and grabs his suit’s power source, trying to pull it out and incapacitate Tony. He lets out a yell as the power source starts to give, but suddenly a beam comes out of it and all Bucky knows is pain as he's knocked backwards. 

He gets to his knees and looks at his left arm, but it's no longer there; it's been blasted off, and the pain in his shoulder is excruciating, bare nerves singing. Tony blasts him again right across the room and he drifts in and out of consciousness for a while, vaguely aware that Steve has got back up to fight Tony off. 

He loses track of time--it could be seconds, or minutes, or hours--then he hears Steve say,

“He's my friend.”

“So was I,” Tony responds, and Bucky watches helplessly as Tony and Steve fight some more, until Steve is knocked on the ground. 

“Stay down,” Tony tells him. “Final warning.”

But Steve gets up, raising his fists. “I could do this all day,” he says, and god, if he doesn't sound like that small, scrappy guy in an alleyway who Bucky remembers so well. 

He rolls over, and as Tony lifts his hand to blast Steve again he grabs Tony's ankle, distracting him. Tony kicks him in the face and pain blooms over his cheek. Before Tony can lay into him, Steve lifts Tony in the air, slamming him down on the ground, and starts to punch him. He grabs his shield and destroys Tony's helmet, before bringing it down full force on the suit’s power core, destroying it. 

Steve comes over and grabs Bucky's outstretched arm, pulling him up and slinging Bucky's arm over his shoulder to support him as they walk. 

“That shield doesn't belong to you,” Tony calls from behind them, and the pain in his voice is brutal. “You don't deserve it! My father made that shield!”

Steve pauses, before dropping the shield, and together Steve and Bucky limp out the way they came. 

As they take the elevator up, Bucky looks at Steve. 

“Steve, I'm… I'm so sorry, I--”

“Don't, Buck,” Steve says shortly, then, more gently, “don't apologize. We've been through this. It wasn't your fault.”

“You lost friends because of me,” Bucky responds, his sadness almost consuming him. 

“It'll all work out, Buck. I promise,” Steve tells him as they head back out into the cold. 

As they walk towards the quinjet, they see a figure in black walking towards them from another plane. It looks like King T’Challa, and Bucky freezes. 

“Captain America,” the king calls as he nears them. “Do not worry. I know the truth now. Mr Zemo has been transported to the authorities.”

He approaches them, his hands up, and Steve nods. “So you know it wasn't Bucky who killed your father.”

“I do,” the king responds. “And I would like to apologize for trying to kill you, Mr Barnes. I was consumed with revenge.”

“I understand,” Bucky says hoarsely. “And please, call me Bucky.”

The king nods. “Well, then, Captain. Bucky. I would like to offer you both sanctuary in my country. I know the authorities will be looking for you, and I believe there is much we could do for you, Bucky.”

Bucky and Steve exchange glances, and Bucky nods slightly. 

“We would be honoured, your highness,” Steve says, and the king smiles. 

“I will bring you in my jet to Wakanda, then we will discuss what we can do for you.”

“Thank you,” Steve says sincerely, and Bucky echoes him. They all head to the king’s jet, and Bucky looks back at the building for a final time. He'll never have to come back here again, and Bucky feels a mixture of relief and elation at the thought.


	21. Chapter 20

They land in Wakanda, in the city of Birnin Azzaria, a few hours later. Bucky has been dozing, his head on Steve's shoulder, most of the way. As they land, Steve shakes him awake. 

“Buck, we’re here.”

Bucky yawns and stretches, and they unbuckle their seatbelts before heading off the plane behind the king. King T’Challa talks to the aids who meet them, telling them they have guests, and that they are to prepare rooms for Bucky and Steve at the research facility. 

They're taken by car to a tall, glass building next to some hills, and a woman, who introduces herself as Asha, leads them inside. 

Bucky is shown to a large, spacious bedroom, overlooking a waterfall and a humid forest in the hills. It's beautiful, and very peaceful. Bucky likes it already. 

Asha brings him fresh clothes, all in his size, and he has a shower, cleaning the smell of battle off himself before getting changed. He's careful of his injured shoulder, which is still agony if he forgets and tries to move it. After about a half an hour Asha returns, and leads him to a large room, where Steve is sitting. He's showered and changed too, and his damp hair looks more like it did back before the war. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says with a smile. “You okay?”

Bucky nods. “I think so.”

A man comes in, wearing a lab coat, and Bucky tenses. But the man simply smiles at him. 

“Bucky? I'm Dr K’Shan. Do you mind if I take a look at your arm?”

Bucky shakes his head, and the doctor pulls up the sleeve of his t-shirt, looking carefully at the gaping hole where his arm had been. 

The doctor “hmm”s, then pulls back. “Yes, I think there's a lot we can do for you here. Would you like a more normal prosthetic, or would you rather stick with metal?”

Bucky pauses for a moment. With a more normal prosthetic he could live a normal life, and not have to worry about hiding it… But then he realizes--he's never going to have a normal life. 

“I'd rather metal,” he says firmly. Besides, it's what he's used to. 

“I have permission to make you a new arm out of vibranium, if you'd like, so it would be nearly indestructible.”

“I… thank you,” Bucky replies, overcome with their generosity. 

“I also understand that you were brainwashed. That you have trigger words planted in your brain to make you obey.”

“That's correct,” Bucky says. 

“We've recently developed a technique to help others who have this problem, and the results have been excellent so far. If you'd like, we could put you on that program, finally free you from what they did to you.”

Bucky feels a lump rising in his throat and he swallows around it. Free? Free from what HYDRA put inside him? He can hardly believe it. “I would be very grateful,” he replies at length. “Thank you so much.”

“It won't be easy,” the doctor warns him, “and it will be a long road. You cannot expect results immediately. But we will get there.”

Bucky nods. He hadn't expected it to be simple. 

“Okay, then. When would you like to start?” the doctor asks. 

“As soon as possible, please,” Bucky says, eager to start. 

The doctor scrolls through his phone. “We can start tomorrow afternoon if you like? We'll get your shoulder bandaged up today until your new arm is ready, though.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says gratefully, and the doctor nods. Steve comes over and squeezes his right shoulder, and Bucky looks up at him as they exchange smiles. 

“Would I be able to speak to His Highness?” Steve asks the doctor. 

The doctor shrugs. “I don't see why not. He's still here--he wanted to be kept updated on what we were planning on doing with Bucky. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to him. Bucky, a doctor will be in shortly to bandage your shoulder.”

“I'll be back,” Steve says as he follows Dr K’Shan out. 

A few moments later, a woman in a white coat appears, pushing a trolley on which bandages and other medical bit are piled. 

“Bucky Barnes?” she says with a smile. “I'm Dr M’yra. Let's get that shoulder bandaged up, hmm? Why don't you take off your shirt so I can get to it.”

Bucky does as he's told, and she tuts as she looks at it. 

“There is a lot of damage here. Your arm was connected to your nerves and muscles in your shoulder?”

“I believe so,” Bucky replies. It certainly feels that way, with the pain he was in. 

“Well, the good news is that when your new arm is ready we'll be able to connect it in the same way so you'll have full range of movement with it,” the doctor says briskly as she opens the first bandage. “So you don't need to worry about that. We're going to leave the top part on for now--there's no point in putting you through surgery twice when we can do it all at once.”

Bucky nods; that sounds sensible. 

The doctor’s touch is gentle and careful, and he barely feels any pain as she wraps his shoulder in bandages until it's completely covered. As she's finishing up, Steve comes back into the room. When his eyes fall on Bucky's bare chest, he flushes and looks at the floor. 

The doctor pins the bandages, and Bucky thanks her. She smiles at him and wheels the trolley back out. 

Bucky pulls his t-shirt back on over his head. “So what did you need to talk to the king about?” he asks. 

“I needed to borrow a plane,” he says, and Bucky's eyes widen. He had thought Steve would stay here with him. Steve sees his reaction and holds up his hands. “Not because--not for long. I just… my friends are being held at the Raft prison and I can't just leave them there. I'm going to get them and take them into hiding, and then I'll be right back. I promise.”

Bucky lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. “You're a good friend, Steve,” he says with a small smile, and Steve looks bashful, his eyes lowered and a flush staining his cheeks. 

“I try. It's my fault they're there in the first place so this is the least I can do.”

Steve pulls Bucky to his feet and wraps him in a hug. Bucky hugs back, trying not to cling. 

At length, Steve pulls back. “I gotta go. But hopefully I'll be back tomorrow to hear how you get on with the therapy, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky says, as Asha comes into the room. 

“Would you like something to eat, Bucky?” she asks, and Bucky nods, suddenly realizing how long it's been since he ate last. “If you'll follow me back to your room we will have some food sent to you.”

When he gets back to his room, he looks around, considering laying down on the comfortable bed. But he knows that if he does, he'll fall straight to sleep, and he really needs to eat first. 

The food, when it comes, is plentiful and delicious. Bucky clears his plate, before eating half the fruit they've given him on a platter. Pleasantly full, he toes off his shoes and lays down on top of the bed. He's asleep in minutes.


	22. Chapter 21

_”... with you to the end of the line…”_

_“... he killed my mom…”_

_“... could do this all day…”_

_“... think I wanted more of you…”_

_Fists and claws and explosions and…_

Bucky jolts awake. His dreams were jumbled and unpleasant, full of blood and death. He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the remnants of the dreams, and is only partially successful. 

He gets up and looks out the window. It's dark outside, but he can hear the rushing water from the waterfall. The sound is soothing, and he rests his forehead against the glass. 

He goes back over to the bed and looks at the clock. The time is two a.m. and he shakes his head, before stripping out of his jeans and socks and climbing under the covers in just his t-shirt and boxers. 

He lies awake for some time, wondering where Steve is, if he's been successful in his rescue attempt. Steve has given up so much for him--his friends, his shield, his freedom--and Bucky wonders if maybe they still have a chance to be something like what they once were to each other. Maybe it's just Steve's inherent loyalty to his friends, but Bucky can hope. 

Hope is really all he has left. 

***

The next afternoon he's led into a room with a lot of electronic equipment. One of them looks a little too much like the machine they used to wipe him and he almost runs, but forces himself to walk into the room. This is a safe space. They're not going to hurt him here. 

“Now, Bucky,” Dr K’Shan says jovially, “I know all this equipment probably looks daunting, but don't worry. I'll explain everything as we go along, but for today I just want to talk to you.”

He motions for Bucky to take a seat in the chair opposite him, then slides a pen and a notepad across to him. 

“First of all, I need you to write down your trigger words. We'll need those for next time.”

“Are you going to…” Bucky begins, unsure. 

The doctor nods. “We will have to trigger you to see what parts of your brain are affected, so that we can work on that. Don't worry, though. We won't make you do anything except maybe sleep.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, trying not to panic. They're doing this to help him, he reminds himself. It's all part of the process. 

He writes the words in Cyrillic, with translations after them. He thinks for a moment, then writes them in the English alphabet too. When he's finished, he gives the notepad back to the doctor. 

“And this is the correct order, yes?”

“Yes,” Bucky replies. 

“Excellent.”

The doctor asks him several probing questions about what he can remember from when they were brainwashing him at the beginning. He answers the questions as best he can, and after about half an hour the doctor sits back, looking satisfied. 

“Well, Bucky, I think we can definitely help you. With the information you've given us, and with our equipment, we should be able to free you from what they did to you. The therapy will take about a month altogether.”

“A month?” Bucky asks, surprised. “Is that all?”

The doctor shrugs. “As I say, we've made good progress with other patients in the past and your case is no more complicated. Five weeks, at the outside, of intensive therapy, and you'll be ready.”

Bucky closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, gratitude, relief, and some other emotions he can't identify crashing through him. “Thank you,” he says hoarsely, and the doctor smiles. 

“My pleasure.”

***

Bucky goes back to his room and sits on one of the large armchairs. There's a small bookcase full of books, and he picks one at random. It turns out to be a decent murder mystery, and he's completely engrossed in it when there's a knock on his door. He grabs a piece of paper from the desk to mark his page, then calls, “Come in!”

The door opens to reveal Steve, grinning from ear to ear. 

“So how did the rescue attempt go?” Bucky asks him. 

“They're all fine. Hiding out in an old SHIELD safe house in Iowa. I feel like I've not slept in a week, though,” Steve says with a laugh, sitting down in an armchair opposite Bucky. 

“You should go nap, maybe?” Bucky suggests, but Steve shakes his head. 

“Nah, too wired. Besides, if I sleep now I won't sleep tonight.”

Bucky nods, and Steve pauses. 

“How did your appointment go today?” Steve asks. 

“Great, I think. The doc says I should be fixed in five weeks, tops.”

“Oh, Buck, that's great,” Steve says, pleased. 

“Yeah. It's gonna be pretty intensive, but I'm gonna be okay.”

“So… I mean, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, but how did you end up in Romania?” Steve asks. 

Bucky looks at him curiously. “You really wanna hear this story?”

“I really do.”

So Bucky tells him everything. His travels, the things he did and saw, and finally settling in Romania. He tells Steve about his neighbors--about the kind couple who adopted him as one of their own. He finds himself getting choked up talking about them, and Steve shoots him a sympathetic look. 

“God, Steve, they don't even know if I'm alive or what's happened to me. They must be so worried.”

“You should write to them,” Steve says. “Let them know you're safe. Keep in touch.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Steve shrugs. “It just sounds like they were a big part of your life. I'm glad you had someone to take care of you.”

“Maybe one day I'll be able to go back. Introduce you to them. You'd like them.”

“I'm sure I would,” Steve says, smiling, and Bucky's heart skips a beat. He wants so badly to reach out and touch, but he's afraid. 

He stands, agitated, and Steve stands too, grabbing Bucky's arm gently. 

“Buck, I…” Steve trails off, and Bucky can't take it any more. He grabs Steve's shirt and pulls him into a kiss, and Steve kisses back, making a noise low in his throat.

Bucky pulls back. “God, Steve, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--”

“Bucky. Shut up.” And then Steve pulls him back into the kiss, and Bucky is happier than he's been in so long. Steve still wants him, and that's all that matters in this moment. It's awkward and sloppy--it's been so long that it takes a few moments for muscle memory to kick in. Bucky feels like his heart is thudding loud enough for Steve to hear it, his pulse racing. 

At length, Steve breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Bucky's. “God, you've no idea--I've wanted to do that since I first saw you again.”

“Me too,” Bucky says with a laugh, panting out short breaths. “I didn't think you'd want to, and then when I saw you kiss that woman…”

“Sharon.” Steve looks uncomfortable. “Sharon Carter. She's Peggy’s niece. Peggy passed away just before the bombing.”

“Oh, god, Steve.” Bucky pulls him into a hug. “I'm so sorry. It didn't even occur to me that she'd still be alive.”

“Yeah. I used to visit her. She still called me on my shit.”

Bucky smiles, cupping Steve's cheek in his hand. “She always did.”

Steve nods. “And as for kissing Sharon… I don't know, Buck, call it a moment of madness. I didn't think you'd still want me, even if you did remember me, and I guess--”

“You don't have to explain yourself to me, Steve,” Bucky interrupts. 

“I kinda do, though. I didn't want to hurt you.”

“I understand.” And Bucky does, because he has Steve here, now, with him. 

Steve kisses him again, and Bucky feels his body respond, but he pulls away. 

“Maybe we should take this slow,” he says softly, licking his lips and watching Steve trace the movement with his eyes. “It's been a while, and I don't want to rush anything.”

“Do you think, maybe, we could… we could stay in the same room? Not do anything, I just always slept better with you there.”

“I’d like that,” Bucky replies with a smile. “Fair warning, though. I have a lot of nightmares.”

“You're not the only one,” Steve says grimly, and Bucky wonders what Steve dreams about. “I'll talk to them about moving my stuff in today.”

Bucky's heart pounds, and he smiles. It's a start.


	23. Chapter 22

The next couple of weeks are busy. He's in therapy every day, strapped up to various machines. Dr K’Shan is as good as his word, and always explains what the machines will do before Bucky gets in them. They trigger him most days, taking brain scans and making him do simple things before telling him to sleep. He wakes up refreshed, no bad memories, and slowly but surely he finds himself able to resist the triggers. The therapy is mentally and physically exhausting, and every night he flops into bed beside Steve, taking barely moments before he falls asleep. 

He gets his new arm fitted--pure vibranium, with Steve's shield painted at the top. He almost cries when he sees that, and the doctor smiles at him gently before putting him under so they can fit it, attaching it to nerves and muscle. The procedure takes nearly a full day, but afterwards Steve comes to see him, clasping the metal hand as Bucky squeezes his fingers gently. 

The arm is lighter than his old one, with an even better range of movement, and an even more sensitive system. It's a hell of a lot easier on the back and shoulder, and Bucky is delighted with it. He spends the next few days practicing his movements, getting the full range back. It works very much the same as his old arm, but the tech is better, so it doesn't take long for him to be able to use it. 

He still has nightmares, but now he has Steve there to calm and soothe him afterwards. They lay together, Steve's head pillowed on Bucky's chest, with Bucky's arm around him, and Bucky feels more complete than he has in seventy years. 

He gets a reply to his letter from Domnul and Doamna Fieraru. They miss him, but they're happy that he's safe. They tell him to come visit when he can, and Doamna Fieraru will make him his favorite foods. They tell him the children missed him when they came to visit, and hope that he can maybe make it for Christmas. He writes back, promising nothing, but telling them he'll do what he can. 

After four and a half weeks, the trigger words have no effect on him, and the doctors pronounce him cured. He and Steve share a couple of beers with their dinner that night in celebration, and when they finish Steve stands, pulling Bucky up from his chair. 

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” he says before kissing Bucky, and Bucky moans in agreement. 

They take it slow, stripping each other carefully, kissing as each piece of clothing falls to the floor. Steve kisses a line down Bucky's neck to his shoulder, then further down, sinking to his knees to undo Bucky's jeans. The gentle pressure on his hardening cock makes Bucky groan, and Steve smirks up at him as he slowly pulls the zipper down, before dragging the jeans and his underwear off. Bucky steps out of them and then Steve's mouth is on his cock, kissing up the shaft before taking the head into his mouth and sucking. 

Bucky gasps, his hand going to Steve's hair, pulling gently, and Steve moans around him encouragingly. It feels so fucking good, and Bucky is hard pushed not to just thrust down Steve's throat. 

He grabs Steve's shoulder and pulls him up, kissing him hard. As they kiss, they manage to get Steve's jeans and underwear off too, before tumbling into the bed together. Steve pulls off both their socks, then crawls up the bed to where Bucky is, lying on top of him and rubbing their hard cocks together. 

“Want you to fuck me, Buck,” Steve says against his lips, and Bucky nods. 

“We need lube, though,” Bucky responds, and Steve flushes, embarrassed, as he goes into the bedside cabinet on his side and emerges with a tube of lube. 

“I went out and got some a couple of weeks ago,” Steve confesses. “I didn't know when you'd be ready--if you'd be ready--but I wanted to be prepared.”

“That is so fucking hot,” Bucky says with a laugh, pulling Steve down into another kiss. He can't get enough of kissing Steve; after seventy-odd years without any real human contact--without Steve--he's touch starved. He rolls them over so Steve's underneath him, thighs spread, and Steve puts the lube in his hand. 

“Go slow,” Steve says hesitantly. “It's--it's been a while.”

Bucky nods, wondering if Steve means what he thinks he means. Steve notices his expression and pulls him down for a kiss. 

“No one since you,” Steve tells him, and Bucky's heart feels fit to burst. They've both changed since the last time they did this, but somehow it doesn't matter. He still knows Steve's body as well as he knows his own. 

He squeezes a large dollop of lube out from the tube onto his fingers and spreads it around, then trails a slick finger down over Steve's cock, past his balls to his asshole. He rubs his fingers over the tight flesh as they kiss, and Steve moans into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Bucky, I need more,” Steve says with a gasp, and Bucky nods, pushing a finger into tight heat. They both groan as Bucky begins to move his finger around, trying to get Steve's muscles to relax. 

He slides down the bed and takes Steve's cock into his mouth as he adds a second finger, licking around the slit and moaning at the taste of precome on his tongue. He'd almost forgotten the way Steve tastes, but he remembers now, bitter-salt flavor bursting against his taste buds, and he bobs his head as he stretches Steve with his fingers. 

He holds Steve's hips down with his metal hand as he crooks his fingers up, and Steve cries out, body jerking as Bucky rubs against his prostate. 

“Buck, oh my god, fuck, keep doing that, feels so good,” Steve babbles, and Bucky smiles around his cock, pulling his fingers out slightly so he can add a third. 

Steve's hands come down to wrap themselves in Bucky's hair, and it's both familiar and not with the long hair he has now. Steve seems to like it, though; his fingers tightening every time Bucky licks around the head of his cock or presses against that spot inside of him. 

The noises Steve's making are turning Bucky on, too, and his cock is hard and leaking against the sheets. 

At length, Bucky pulls off Steve's cock, drawing his fingers out of Steve's ass. 

“You ready?” he asks, and Steve nods. 

“Fuck, yes, Buck, need you inside me, need you fucking me, please,” he begs, and Bucky smiles. 

He grabs a pillow and Steve lifts his hips so Bucky can tuck it underneath. Then Bucky's slicking his cock and lining up before pushing inside, and he almost loses it there and then. He bites his lip and thinks of weapons, thinks of city names, goes through the alphabet in half a dozen different languages until he's fully inside. He leans down to kiss Steve and lets out a short laugh. 

“Fuck, Steve, I'm not gonna last very long.”

“Me either, Buck. Just... fuck me, now.”

Bucky nods, and begins to move, changing angle until Steve cries out and claws at his back. Then Bucky picks up the pace, fucking Steve hard and fast as Steve moans beneath him, words like “so good” and “missed you” and “oh god, Bucky” falling from his lips. 

Bucky knows he's not going to last much longer. “Touch yourself,” he tells Steve. “Wanna see you make yourself come for me.”

Steve does as he's told, and it only takes a few strokes before he's crying out, come splashing over his stomach and chest. Steve trails his fingers through the mess on his stomach and lifts them to Bucky's lips, and as Bucky sucks them into his mouth the taste of Steve on his tongue pushes him over the edge and he stills, crying out as he orgasms. 

He hangs his head, catching his breath, before looking up at Steve who is watching him with a mischievous grin. 

“You're so hot when you come, Buck,” he says, and Bucky swats at him, carefully pulling out before falling into the bed beside Steve. 

“Yeah, well, so are you,” he retorts, grabbing a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet and wiping at the come on Steve's skin. When he's clean, Bucky leans in to kiss him. “There.”

“You always take such good care of me, Buck,” Steve says, his expression soft. 

“Yeah, well, someone's gotta,” Bucky replies lazily, stretching his limbs and yawning. Steve snuggles into his side, head on his chest, and Bucky wraps his arm around Steve's back, drawing lazy patterns on his arm. “So… where do we go from here?” he asks softly. 

Steve shrugs. “His highness has said we’re welcome to stay as long as we like. Maybe we stay here another couple of months then join the others in Iowa?”

“Maybe we could go to Romania for Christmas,” Bucky says with a smile. 

“That would be nice. But whatever we do, we do it together. Now I've got you back, I'm not letting you out of my sight.”

Bucky's arm tightens around him. “The feeling is definitely mutual.” He drops a kiss on the top of Steve's head. “Now sleep. I wanna do some exploring tomorrow.”

“You got it.”

Steve falls asleep quickly, but Bucky stays awake a little longer, just listening to Steve's breathing. Things aren't perfect yet--they're still fugitives, after all--but he knows there will come a time when the world will need Steve and his friends again, and it'll be safe to come out of hiding. 

Until that day, at least they have each other. That's all Bucky could ever wish for.


	24. Epilogue

The day before Christmas, Steve hands him an envelope. Bucky looks at it curiously, and gasps when he opens it. Inside is a wad of Romanian money. 

“You'd better get packed. We leave in half an hour,” Steve says with a smile, and Bucky gapes at him. 

“But… but I haven't told Domnul and Doamna Fieraru that we're coming!” he stammers, and Steve laughs. 

“Well, it's just as well I did, then, then, isn't it?”

Bucky throws his arms around Steve's neck, kissing him soundly. “You're amazing. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on. The jet will be ready soon.”

Asha is their pilot, and when they land she promises to pick them up on the twenty seventh. Bucky is sorry they're only going to have a few days--there's so much he wants show Steve, but that will have to wait. 

When they arrive at the apartment, the whole clan is there, and Bucky is wrapped up in more hugs than he can count. Doamna Fieraru hugs him at least four times in the first five minutes, commenting on his new short haircut and how well he's looking. 

“We will feed you up, though, băiat,” she says with a wink. “You and your young man here. He looks like he can eat too.”

“He can. It's trying to get him to stop that's the problem,” Bucky replied dryly, then translates for Steve when he looks at them questioningly as Doamna Fieraru laughs. 

Although Domnul and Doamna Fieraru have very little English, their children and grandchildren speak some, so Steve is able to talk to them, albeit somewhat haltingly.

That night, although Steve tries to insist on finding a hotel, Domnul and Doamna Fieraru will not hear of it, and they end up curled up together on an inflatable mattress on the living room floor, listening to the sounds of the city. 

The following day, the children wake them up, having arrived early with their parents. Bucky grabs hold of the youngest and tickles her, until she cries out, “No, Uncle Bucky! No more!” He lets her go, looking up at Alexandra, who smiles at him. He manages a watery smile back, before laughing as the older children surround him and Steve and attack. 

Steve has arranged for presents for all of them, and he and Steve have a pile to open from the family too. The little ones have drawn them pictures, and most of the parcel from Doamna Fieraru is home baking; Bucky can sense the love that went into it all and feels a lump forming in his throat. 

After presents they go to church, then back for the main meal. The children sucker both Steve and Bucky into giving horsie rides around the apartment, and Bucky laughs more than he's laughed since he can remember. 

That evening, when the family have gone back to their hotel and it's just the four of them, Doamna Fieraru smiles and pats Bucky's hand. 

“He is good for you, băiat. You're happier than you've ever been when you're with him.”

“He's been my everything since we were kids,” Bucky replies wistfully. “So many years apart, but at least we're together now.”

“You've both had it hard,” she says, and Bucky nods. 

They don't talk about Bucky's past, but Bucky knows that they now know who he is. Their love and acceptance of him makes him tear up. 

Over the next two days, they see as much of the city as they can, but all too soon it's time to leave Domnul and Doamna Fieraru. Steve hugs them both and thanks them in halting Romanian, making Bucky smile. 

“You hold on tight to each other,” Doamna Fieraru says firmly, and Bucky takes Steve's hand. 

He intends to.


End file.
